yam 


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OUT  OF  HER   SPHERE. 


BY 


LIZZIE  BOYNTON  HARBERT. 

* 

C  Q 


"  The  mission  of  woman  on  earth?    To  uplift, 
Purify  and  confirm,  by  her  own  gracious  gift, 
The  world,  in  despite  of  the  world's  dull  endeavor 
To  degrade  and  drag  down  and  oppose  it  forever. 
The  mission  of  woman  ?    Born  to  soothe  and  to  solace, 
To  help  and  to  heal  the  sick  world  that  leans  on  her." 


DBS    MOINES: 
MILLS   &    CO.,    PRINTERS    AND   PUBLISHERS. 

,    1871. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871,  by 

LIZZIE  BOYNTON  HARBERT, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  Washington,  D.  C. 


10 


22124GS 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    Foreshadowiiigs,      ......  1 

II.  The  Pride  of  the  Country— Boy,      .          .          ..  .5 

III.  Marjory  Through  Other's  Spectacles,    ....  13 

IV.  A  Tangle  of  Questions  and  Carpet  Rags,            .  .    21 

V.  Threads  and  Thrums,         .....  28 

VI.  The  Coming  Woman,             .          .           .           .  .33 

VII.  Marjory  Knocks  at  Gates  which  are  Sacred  to  Boys,  39 

VIII.  A  Girl  of  the  Period,          .  .  .  .  .44 

IX.  Preparation,        .           .           .           .           .           .  .49 

X.  "On  to  Washington,"        .....  57 

XI.  A  Chime  of  Belles,       .           .                  '  .           .  .63 

XII.  Seeking  a  Place  in  the  World  of  Work,         .          .  70 

XIII.  "  Reserved  Moral  Force  Powerless  to  Legislate,"  .    79 

XIV.  Mothers  to  the  Rescue !    .                     ...  87 
XV.  "  The  Sphere  of  a  Circle,"      .           .           .           .  .92 

XVI.  Pro  and  Con, 101 

XVII.  "  Marriage  Belles," 109 

XVIII.  In  the  Lyceum,        .  .  120 

XIX.  "  Not  for  Sale," 130 

XX.  Drifting,          .  .        145 

XXI.  Mother  and  Child,        ...  .  148 

XXII.  Little  Christine's  Spherr,  .  .       153 

XXIII.  Co-Laborers 159 

XXIV.  In  Her  Sphere, 164 

XXV.  A  chapter  which  has  no  connection  with  our  story,      170 


OUT  OF  HER  SPHERE. 

CHAPTER    I. 

FORESHADOWINGS. 

All  ye  lassies  who  would  a  true  womanhood  win, 
Avoid  vanity's  breakers,  lest  ye  tumble  in. 

"  All !  I  see  you,  Little  Shadow ;  and  as  the  boys  say, 
'  I  think  you  '11  do.'  You  see — no,  you  can't  see,  either; 
but  you  know,  if  you  are  to  follow  me  all  the  days  of 
my  life,  I  want  you  to  be  a  pretty  good  Shadow. 
Come  a  little  nearer,  please.  Here  I  am,  leaning 
right  over  the  water.  I  see  you  plain  as  day,  you 
cunning  little  thing!  There!  you  are  dancing  right 
over  those  lilies !  I  guess  you  forgot  to  curl  your  hair 
this  morning;  it  looks  just  like  mine  feels.  Perhaps 
this  aint  your  morning  for  curling  it.  I  only  curl 
mine  about  once  a  week,  and  then  it  hurts  dreadful ! 
Yes !  and  your  apron  is  torn,  too!  I  can  see  a  little 
bare  shoulder  peeping  through.  Barefooted,  too! 
and  oh !  don't  the  stones  hurt !  You  are  enough  like 
me  to  be  my  sister.  Oh-o-o-o-oh ! "  and  plash  went 
the  little  maiden,  right  into  the  brook. 

The  water  dimpled  and  darkened,  the  Little  Shadow 
was  driven  away,  and  our  heroine  might  have  been 
drowned,  and  our  story  never  written,  but  for  the 
opportune  appearance  of  Hugh  Browning,  whose 


2  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

strong  hands  lifted  the  frightened  child  from  her 
watery  bed,  and  placed  her  gently  upon  the  moss- 
covered  tree  from  which  she  had  fallen;  and  then 
the  woods  resounded  with  merry,  boyish  laughter. 

"  Well,  Marjory,  what  in  the  world  were  you  lean- 
ing over  the  water  in  that  style  for  ?  " 

"  Why— why,"— and  then  a  girlish  laugh  tinkled 
and  babbled  through  the  air  until  the  birds  almost 
ceased  singing  to  listen — "I  was  only  talking  to  my 
shadow— just  having  the  most  fun,  and  it  looked  so 
cunning  that  I  thought  I  would  kiss  it,  and  so  I  leaned 
over — and  so  I  tumbled  in.  I  suppose  if  you  hadn't 
been  near,  I  would  have  drowned ;  but  then  you  are 
always  round.  I  guess  you  are  my  '  Providence,'  as 
Auntie  calls  it.  But  aint  I  wet  and  muddy  ?  I  guess 
I  won't  go  home  just  yet,  'cause  mamma  is  so  apt  to 
ask  questions." 

"  That  was  it,  little  Miss  Vanity ;  looking  at  yourself. 
Little  girls  that  spend  too  much  time  looking  at  them- 
selves usually  have  a  fall  of  some  kind." 

"Hugh  Browning,  you  are  just  the  hardest  boy  to 
please  I  ever  saw.  Just  the  other  day  you  told  me  to 
love  everything,  because  God  made  it;  and  that  lit- 
tle shadow  dancing  over  the  ferns  and  lilies  was  just 
the  cunningest  thing  I've  seen  to-day.  But  your 
boots  are  muddy,  anyhow,  so  s'pose  you  get  me  that 
bunch  of  lilies?" 

A  decided  expression  of  astonishment  flitted  across 
the  boy's  face,  as  the  coveted  blossoms  grew  in  the  deep- 
est part  of  the  pond ;  and  while  he  was  yet  coolly 
surveying  Marjory,  a  plash  in  the  water  arrested 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  3 

his  attention,  and  looking  around,  he  discovered  one 
of  the  village  boys  already  gathering  the  fragrant 
blossoms.  In  a  moment  the  boy's  tattered  straw  hat 
was  filled  with  the  snowy  buds,  which  he  hastily  con- 
veyed to  Marjory,  saying,  as  he  emptied  them  into 
her  apron :  "If  you  ever  want  anything  of  that  kind 
clone  agin,  and  Jack  Lawson's  around,  why,  he's  your 
man — " 

"Oh!  thank  you,  you  splendid,  jolly  boy;  these 
are  beauties.  Now  come  and  sit  down  on  the  tree 
and  let's  tell  fortunes— and — if  ever  you  want  any- 
thing done,  why,  I'm  your  girl." 

"  Madge,  how  many  times  must  I  tell  you  not  to 
use  such  words?" 

"What  words?" 

"  Why,  such  words  as  '  I'm  your  girl.'  " 

"  Well,  now,  that's  funny,  too.  I  said  it  because 
you  say  it.  I  thought  'twas  just  the  jolliest  thing  to 
say.  I  did,  just  as  sure  as  guns." 

"Ah!  there  you  go  again!  A  little  girl  saying — 
'as  sure  as  guns.'  " 

"  But  I  know  you  say  that,  Hugh  ;  'cause  that's 
exactly  where  I  learned  it." 

"  Very  likely  you  did;  but  I  am  a  boy,  and  boys 
can  say  a  great  many  things  that  is  n't  at  all  proper 
for  little  girls  to  say." 

"But  why?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  just  know  why,  unless  it 's  because 
they're  girls." 

"  Well,  then,  I  don't  think  it 's  one  bit  nice  to  be  a 
girl ;  so  there.  Everybody  always  saying  little  girls 
mustn't  do  this  or  that.  I  can't  run,  nor  climb 


4  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

fences,  nor  whistle,  nor  go  in  swimming,  or  any- 
thing; and  I  am  going  to  do  every  single  thing  that 
you  do.  God  never  meant  that  little  boys  could  be  as 
bad  as  everything,  did  he,  and  just  the  little  girls 
must  be  good  ?  Won't  there  be  any  boys  in  heaven  ? 
'cause  if  there  won't,  I  guess  I  won't  go.  I  do  n't 
think  't  would  be  very  nice  to  have  only  girls." 

"You  are  the  strangest  chicken,  Madge;  I  don't 
know  what  God  thinks,  but  I  know  it  is  a  great  deal 
easier  for  girls  to  be  good  than  for  boys.  I  want  you 
to  be  good  enough  for  both  of  us." 

"  Yes,  but  you  see  1  won't.  It  is  just  dreadful  hard 
to  be  good  enough  for  myself.  Here,  Jack ;  here  's 
your  bouquet." 

"  Why,  Marjory,  I  thought  that  was  for  me." 
"  Did  you  ?  Who  waded  in  for  the  flowers  ?" 
Only  a  little  thing ;  a  cluster  of  flowers  from  the 
hand  of  a  little  girl,  and  yet  when  Hugh  Browning 
saw  them  placed  in  the  rough,  brown  hands  owned  by 
Jack  Lawson,  he  coveted  them.  Thus  early  in  life  he 
was  taught  to  realize  that  if  we  sit  idly  by  while 
others  perform  their  labors  of  love,  we  must  expect  to 
see  them  reap  the  blessing  at  the  beautiful  harvest- 
time.  Hugh  thought  it  a  manly  act  to  lift  Marjory 
from  the  water,  but  any  boy  could  wade  in  for  lilies. 
Life  will  discover  to  him  that  those  who  wait  for  great 
occasions  are  not  the  world's  greatest  heroes,  but  those 
who  crowd  into  every  day  and  hour,  acts  of  kindness, 
charity  and  love. 

Ten  persons  could  be  found  willing  to  assist  in 
drawing  the  carriage  of  a  prince,  while  we  searched 
for  one  who  would  share  his  seat  with  a  beggar. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  •  5 

OHAPTEE    II. 

THE   PRIDE   OF   THE   COUNTRY— BOY. 

"  Let  a  man  once  show  the  world  that  he  feels 
Afraid  of  its  bark,  and  'twill  fly  at  his  heels; 
Let  him  fearlessly  face  it,  'twill  leave  him  aione, 
But  'twill  fawn  at  his  feet  if  he  fling  it  a  bone." 

"  Fifty  cents  a  bushel  for  the  'Greenings,'  and  fifty- 
five  for  the  '  Seek-no-Furthers,'  and  you  'd  best  drive 
rather  keerfully  over  the  rough  places,  so  as  not  to 
bruise  Jem — the  apples,  we  suppose,  not  the  rough 
places — and  be  sure  to  be  back  agin  milkin'-time." 

"Yes,  sir,  you  may  depend  on  rne;  I'll  be  back  in 
time."  So  saying  the  speaker  sprang  into  an  open 
wagon,  seated  himself  upon  a  rough  board  and  grasped 
the  lines  in  a  manner  that  indicated  he  possessed  the 
secret  of  success,  for  he  did  with  his  might  whatsoever 
his  hands  found  to  do. 

"Wait!  let  me  ride  to  the  gate  with  you,  please?'' 
and  in  response  to  her  request,  Winthrop  waited  and 
lifted,  very  tenderly,  the  little  bundle  of  check'd 
apron  and  tangled  curls,  up  to  theseat  beside  him,  and 
as  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  piquant  face  we  know  it 
is  sister  to  the  boyish  one  beside  it. 

Winthrop  assumed  quite  a  grand-fatherly  air,  as  he 
thus  questioned  the  little  lass  : 

"  Daisy,  do  you  remember  Irow  you  cried  because 
you  could  n't  go  to  the  circus  with  me,  and  wished 


Q  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

you  were  a  boy  ?  I  tell  you,  boys  have  a  good  deal  of 
trouble  too;  pretty  hard  times  I  can  tell  you.  How 
would  you  like  to  be  sent  to  town  to  peddle  apples 
and  have  all  the  proud  city  folks  look  down  upon 
you?" 

"  Now,  Wintie,  that's  green— just  as  green  as  your 
apples— if  you  feel  like  a  peddler  other  people  will 
think  you  are  one,  but  if  you  think  you  are  a  splen- 
did boy  selling  apples  to  help  your  father,  why  all 
the  people  will  wish  they  had  a  nice  jolly  boy  like 
that.  If  1  was  going  I  would  pretend  I  was— I  was — 
only  it  jolts  pretty  much,  do  n't  it?  " 

"  I  should  think  it  did,  and  I  guess  by  the  time 
you  'd  get  to  town  you  would  think  you  was  a  funeral 
procession,  or  something.  But,  good-bye  now,  jump 
down  and  open  the  gate  and  run  home  to  your  dolls 
and  kittens." 

Out  from  the  farm-yard  into  the  winding  road, 
speckled,  flecked  and  broidered  with  sun-beams,  shad- 
ows, and  brilliant  autumn  leaves,  Winthrop  watched 
the  frisking  squirrels  and  listened  to  the  dropping 
nuts,  until  his  foolish  pride  was  forgotten,  and  his 
young  soul  received  a  blessing  from  the  perfect  day, 
with  its  sun-light  and  beauty.  Gratitude  to  the  kind 
Father  who  had  tinted  the  autumn  leaves  and  shaded 
the  clouds,  so  filled  his  heart,  that  he  whistled  a 
prayer  and  was  merry  and  glad  as  the  morning. 

Ye  who  live  from  "  merry  Christmas "  until 
u  Thanksgiving  "  in  Crowded  cities,  wonder  not  that 
your  childish  days  were  not  haunted  by  such  emo- 
tions—since you  were  not  blessed  with  such  beautiful 


Out  of  Her  /Sphere.  7 

teachers.  From  the  floating  apple  blossoms,  blushing 
good-bye,  to  the  gnarled  old  mother  trees,  until  the 
crimson  and  golden  fruit  is  gathered  nature  abounds 
in  tenderest  lessons,  and  our  young  friend  Winthrop 
has  been  her  faithful  pupil. 

"  I  say !  hold  up  a  minute.  Could  n't  give  a  tired 
fellow  a  lift,  I  reckon?  could  ye?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  could  ;  so  jump  in,  and  as  Pat  says, 
'  The  top  o'  the  mornin'  to  ye.'  " 

"  G'wine  to  the  town  with  a  load  of  apples,  be  you? 
Not  much  fun,  either,  The  old  man  wanted  me  to  go, 
but  you  see  I  was  a  leetle  too  smart  for  him ;  a  leetle 
too  smart.  You  see  I  think  I'm  about  as  good  as  the 
next  one,  and  I  don't  propose  to  be  looked  down 
upon  by  those  proud  city  chaps.  But  see  here,  old 
fellow,  seems  to  me  you  wear  pretty  fine  clothes  for 
poor  folks.  You  aint  trying  a  few  airs,  be  you?" 

"  No  difference  about  the  airs  so  long  as  I  earned 
the  clothes." 

"  If  ever !  Spunky,  aint  you  ?  I  just  heard  Squire 
Larkin's  gals  saying  that  since  you  come  from  college 
you  would  n't  play  "  Sister  Phoabe,"  nor  any  of  them 
plays,  at  the  quiltin's  or  apple  begs,  and  that  you  was 
saving  your  money  to  buy  your  sister  a  pianny.  But 
here's  my  stopping  place.  I  am  '  bleeged '  to  you — 
good  day." 

Winthrop  used  his  whip  for  the  first  time,  now,  and 
drove  rapidly  toward  the  town.  The  few  words  of 
the  ignorant  boy  had  colored  the  canvass  of  his  im- 
agination and  were  destined  flfeshade  all  the  circum- 
stances of  his  visit  to  the  village. 


8  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

Thus  are  we  ever,  with  the  tiny  brushes  of  opinion, 
painting;  shadows  or  sunbeams  on  the  hearts  of  our 
associates. 

Merely  one  kind,  loving  word  may  cause  some  lit- 
tle saddened  heart  to  thrill  with  joy  —  merely  a 
thoughtless  word  turn  somebody's  sunshine  to  sha- 
dow; our  days  are  ever  broidercd  with  the  restless 
hands  of  friends. 

The  horses  Winthrop  drives,  wait  not  for  our  moral- 
izing. Forest  trees  become  more  scattered,  rail  fences 
are  supplanted  by  board,  church  spires  loom  in  the 
distance,  then  the  "square,"  with  its  central  point  of 
Court  House  and  Winthrop  is  in  town.  The  large 
apple  placed  upon  an  upright  stick  attracts  observa- 
tion and  customers,  and  in  a  short  time  but  a  single 
bushel  remains  unsold;  one  of  the  prominent  mer- 
chants of  the  town  secures  that,  with  the  request  that 
Winthrop  would  leave  it  at  the  house  on  the  corner, 
as  he  had  no  basket. 

A  scarlet  flush  passed  over  the  boy's  face,  and  then, 
heartily  ashjRned  of  his  own  pride,  he  drove  to  the 
residence  indicated.  Pausing  a  moment  to  listen  to  a 
sweet  voice  singing  a  favorite  ballad,  he  then  knocked 
distinctly  and  awaited  the  opening  of  the  door. 

Through  the  long  hall  came  the  distinct  tread  of 
firmly  planted  little  feet,  and  the  boy's  heart  beat  as 
violently  as  though  some  witch  or  fairy  had  revealed 
to  him  that  she  who  was  coming  was  to  be  the  good 
or  bad  angel  of  his  future.  The  door  was  opened  and 
the  merchant's  only  djfcghter  stood  before  him.  In 
the  presence  of  those  beautiful,  sympathetic  eyes  the 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  9 

boy  stood  awkwardly  silent  a  moment,  then  stam- 
mered out,  "here's  a  bushel  of  apples  he  asked  me  to 
leave  here." 

"Oh!  yes,  nice  one's  aint  they?  perfect  beauties! 
just  bring  them  into  the  pantry,  Bub,  if  you—"  but 
before  the  astonished  child  could  utter  the  "  please," 
the  boy  slammed  the  door,  set  the  apples  down  with  a 
bump,  and  forgetting  his  father's  new  bushel  bas- 
ket, he  sprang  into  the  wagon  and  drove  rapidly 
away.  The  beauty  of  the  autumn  day  had  vanished, 
the  daintily  tinted  clouds  seemed  but  a  daub,  while 
the  birds  seemed  to  echo  and  the  sun-beams  to  auto- 
graph that  word  so  dreadful  to  boyish  ears,  "  Bub." 
A  little  thing,  you  say,  from  which  to  evoke  a  scene; 
ah  !  'twas  of  serious  import  to  the  boy  Winthrop,  for 

"  All  proud  flesh,  wherever  it  grows, 
Is  subject  to  irritation. — " 

Bight  here,  if  I  was  not  opposed  to  sermons  in 
stories,  I  would  say  to  my  young  friends,  to  that  dear, 
blessed,  little,  dark-eyed  girl  who  thinks  "nobody 
loves  her,"  or  that  "  the  other  girls  don't^vish  to  play 
with  her,"  I  would  say  to  her,  don't  think  s6  much 
about  yourself  dear !  Be  so  kind,  and  merry,  and 
.  j*ood,  that  others  cannot  desist  from  loving  you,  and 
that  the  children  will  always  choose  you  for  a  play- 
mate. 

Or,  you,  good-hearted,  large-handed,  freckled-faced 
boy»  you  know  that  you  are  awkward  and  ugly,  and 
you  imagine  that  God  does  n't  love  you  very  much 
or  He  would  have  made  you  more  lovable.  Just  be 
patient,  my  honest  fellow.  Keep  pure  in  heart  and 


LU  Out  oj-  Her  Sphere. 

after  a  time  your  soul  will  glide  into  your  face.  You 
are  to  make  a  strong,  useful,  splendid  man,  and  then 
your  friends  will  chide  themselves  for  not  apprecia- 
ting you.  All  this  I  would  like  to  say,  but  as  I  am 
attempting  a  story  I  will  say  nothing  about  it. 

Winthrop  was  very  proud,  and  hence,  very  sensi- 
tive. He  foolishly  imagined  that  some  persons 
looked  with  disdain  upon  him  because  he  was  a  farm- 
er's son.  He  thought  he  discovered  pride  in  others, 
when  he  possessed  the  larger  share  himself.  The 
thoughtless  little  girl  called  him  "Bub"  merely  be- 
cause she  did  not  know  what  else  to  call  him,  and  he 
foolishly  imagined  it  was  because  he  was  a  "  country 

boy." 

•*•**##**##•** 

"What  has  my  Little  Humbug  been  doing  to- 
day?" questioned  the  merchant,  who  had  caused  our 
friend  Winthrop  so  much  trouble. 

"Pa,  I  really  wish  you  would  never  call  me  a 
'  humbug' again  ;  because  I  really  guess  lam  one" 

"Well,  well;  I  'really  guess 'you  are,  too;  but  I 
wish  the  world  was  crowded  with  such.  But  what  is 
the  trouble  now?" 

"  Why,  pa,  I  never  do  what  I  want  to.  I  am 
always  sure  to  do  the  very  wrongest  thing.  I  try  to 
make  people  happy  and  have  a  good  time,  but  I  most 
always  go  wrong.  You  know  that  nice  little  boy 
that  cut  old  auntie  Conner's  wood  for  her  when  she 
was  hurt?  Well,  he  came  here  to-day  with  some 
apples,  and  I  asked  him  just  as  good  as  I  could  to 
take  them  into  the  pantry,  when  he  just  banged  the 


.          Out  of  Her  Sphere.  11 

door,  set  the  apples  down  as  hard  as  our  teacher  does 
the  little  boys  when  they  do  n't  know  the  lesson,  and 
then  drove  away  as  fast  as  he  could.  What  made  him 
act  so,  do  you  suppose?" 

"  Well,  really,  I  don't  know.  Think  a  minute. 
Tell  me  just  what  you  said." 

"  I  didn't  say  anything  at  all,  but  'just  take  them 
into  the  pantry,  Bub.'  That  was  every  rag." 

"  Ah,  yes,  Topsy,  it  was  that  little  word  '  Bub ' 
that  made  the  -mischief.  Boys  of  his  age  are  very 
sensitive.  His  name  is  Winthrop ;  call  him  so  if  you 
meet  him  again." 

"  Why,  I  will  call  him  General,  if  he  wants  me  to; 
but  I  would  like  to  call  him  Bub  once  more,  just  to 
see  his  eyes  flash." 

The  stars  shone  into  the  little  maiden's  room  and 
twinkled  a  benediction  upon  her  as  she  kneeled  by 
her  little  bed  and  repeated,  "  Forgive  us  our  tres- 
passes as  we  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  us," 
adding,  "Father,  please  send  an  angel  to  tell  that 
boy  I  did  not  mean  to  make  him  angry." 

The  same  stars  shone  into  the  more  humble  apart- 
ment known  as  Winthrop's  room,  out  in  the  old  farm- 
house. Winthrop  kneeled  by  his  little  sleeping  sister, 
smoothing  tho  tangled  curls  and  resolving  that  by  his 
own  unaided  labor  he  would  secure  for  her  wealth 
and  position.  This  young  lad  had  accepted  the  false 
belief  that  money  can  secure  every  possible  good  and 
happiness.  Life,  with  its  beautiful  realities;  its  grand 
possibilities;  its  Christian  chairities,  is  before  him. 
He  will  live  to  learn,  that  happiness  consists,  not  in 


12  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

lands,  stocks,  or  greenbacks  alone,  but  in  the  power  to 
extract  some  pleasure  from  every  passing  moment ; 
every  situation  in  life;  every  friendship  and  every 
duty.  God  has  crowded  life  with  beauty  and  bless- 
ings, if  so  we  only  keep  bright  the  key  which  unlocks 
the  mystic  door.  That  key  is  unselfishness. 

Winthrop's  selfish  pride  had  received  a  blow,  he 
could  not  say,  "  forgive  us  our  trespasses  ;  "  his  even- 
ing prayer  was  omitted,  and  his  sleep  was  troubled  ; 
the  distant  child's  was  sweet.  Meanwhile  the  angels 
are  guarding  them. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  13 

CHAPTER    III. 

MARJORY  THROUGH   OTHER  SPECTACLES. 

Ah  !  Prejudice  and  Ignorance  strange  spectacles  you  use, 
For  they  give  to  every  object  a  tinge  of  their  own  hues. 

11  'Pon  my  word,  where  did  you  corae  from,  child? 
and  so  early  in  the  morning  too ;  I  thought  you  city 
folks  did  n't  eat  your  breakfast  until  dinner  time,  and 
here  you  are  as  bright  as  a  lark." 

The  'pon  honor,  truth  is,  John,  I  never  was  up  quite 
so  early ;  and  then  I  am  up  two  ways ;  up  early  and 
up  high.  When  I  was  a  very  little  girl  my  papa  used 
to  tell  me  about  the  sun  rise  on  the  prairie,  and  so  I 
coaxed  Albert  to  nail  some  boards  on  the  roof  so  I 
could  climb  up,  and  its  just  pretty  jolly.  But  is  it 
true,  are  those  trees  thirteen  miles  away  ?  " 

"  You  just  start  afoot  to  the  nighest  tree  and  I  guess 
you'll  believe  it;  "  hastily  replied  the  man,  who  had 
come  over  to  the  farm  "  to  help  'em  a  spell ; "  not 
that  he  was  obliged  to  work  for  his  living,  (as  he 
had  explained  to  Marjory,)  "  but  that  he  could  n't  be 
mean  enough  not  to  help  a  neighbor  out  of  a  tight 
place." 

This  Marjory  being  our  veritable  little  friend  who 
made  her  debut  seated  upon  a  mossy  tree,  admiring 
her  own  shadow  in  the  waters  of  a  little  brook,  and 
who  now  makes  her  appearance  seated  upon  the  roof 


14  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

of  a  large  farm  house  situated  on  one  of  the  broad 
prairies  of  Illinois.  The  child  has  been  gifted  with  a 
true  love  for  the  beautiful,  and  her  young,  pure  soul  is 
thrilled  with  delight  by  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  and 
who  can  witness  the  sblime  pageant  of  a  sunrise  on 
the  prairie  and  not  be  thus  intoxicated  with  pleasure. 
Along  the  rose-tinted  grey  of  the  morning  there  seems 
to  be  autographed  that  sublime  sentence,  "Let  there 
be  light,  and  there  was  light." 

Perhaps,  in  the  spring-time,  you  have  observed  the 
chequered  fields— one,  brown  with  rich,  damp  earth; 
she  next,  green-tinted  by  the  ambitious,  early  wheat ; 
while  bordering  the  horizon  is  a  fringe  of  trees, 
brightened  by  the  delicate  blossoms  which  we  gladly 
hail  as  prophets  of  delicate  fruits. 

A  little  later  we  see  the  waves  of  golden,  gleaming 
wheat  and  seem  to  hear  the  rustling  winds  whisper 
to  the  tasselled  corn,  of  long-forgotten  Indian  prin- 
cesses who  prayed  so  long  and  fervently  to  the  "  Great 
Spirit "  that  he  would  send  the  "  maize." 

Yet  again,  the  scene  is  crowded  with  beauty. 
When  the  grain  is  gathered  ;  when  the  wild  prairie 
flowers  burn  in  thrills  of  color  every  where ;  when  the 
tall  grass  swings  and  bends,  yielding  in  wildest  grace 
to  the  caresses  of  the  Autumn  wind— the  wind  which 
ever  like  a  fickle,  beautiful  maiden,  for  a  moment 
bends  and  prostrates  all  before  her,  and  yet  leaves 
but  a  ripple  in  her  wake  to  whisper  of  her  conquests. 
Aye,  the  prairies  are  beautiful  in  the  Autumn.  To- 
day the  quiet,  waving  grass  ;  the  silent  inhalations  of 
the  flowers ;  the  lowing  of  cattle,  or  the  soft  echoes  of 

I 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  15 

the  wild  deer's  footsteps.  To-morrow,  all  the  wild 
excitement  of  the  fires.  We  weary  of  it  only  when 
Whit-tier's  lines  are  realized— 

"  No  cloud  above — no  earth  below, 
A  universe  of  sky  and  snow." 

But  to  return  to  Marjory,  whose  pleasant  reverie 
was  disturbed  by  the  rasping  voice  of  the  "  hired 
man." 

"I  say,  Miss  '  McFlimsy,'  if  you  'low  to  go  to  the 
timber  with  me  to-day,  you'd  best  run  into  the  house 
and  change  your  harness.  You  can't  get  through  the 
bushes  with  all  that  finery." 

"  Nobody  expected  to  go  to  the  woods  with  a  wrap- 
per on,  but  I  can  change  it  in  a  minute.  Can't  I  go 
with  you  to  milk  first?  Won't  you  teach  me  how  ?" 

Well,  yes,  I  reckon,  you  can  go  if  you  will  run  the 
risk  of  having  all  the  turkeys  after  you,  'cause  our 
turkeys  aint  used  to  such  things." 

"Used  to  what  things,  John  ?  " 

"  Why,  little  girls  running  around  of  a  morning  all 
sprinked  out  with  ruffles  and  ribbons." 

"  Well,  I  will  help  you  carry  the  buckets  to  the  gate 
any  how.1'  And  a  little,  white,  dimpled  hand  nestled 
close  to  the  farmer's  broad,  brown  one,  causing  the 
poetry  of  the  man's  nature  no  escape  in  the  following 
soliloquy  :  "  I  vum,  if  that  don't  remind  me  of  a  dove 
and  a  prairie  chicken  sitting  side  by  side  on  a  fence." 
Meanwhile  Marjory's  little  feet  fairly  danced  in 
attempts  to  keep  pace  with  the  larger  pair  beside 
them. 

"Them  feet  o'  yours  won't  kill  much  grass,  I 
reckqp?" 


16  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

"  Oh  !  John,  why  won't  you  love  me  a  single  bit  ? 
my  dear  papa  is  dead,  mamma  is  so  far  away,  and  no- 
body loves  me,  and  Oh  !  it  makes  my  heart  hurt  so." 
The  large,  loving  eyes  looked  up  pleadingly  into  his. 
Then  plash  came  the  great,  hot  tears  down  on  his 
hands,  and  then  the  little  unhappy,  grieved  child 
nestled  down  'mid  the  grass  at  his  feet,  her  little 
quivering  form  telling  of  sobs  and  heart-ache. 

"  If  ever  I  saw  the  beat  o'  that,  my  name  ain't  John 
Thompson.  Why,  God  bless  you,  child,  I  would 
rather  have  lost  my  best  three-year-old  colt,  than  to 
have  made  you  feel  that  way.  Now  forgive  me  and 
tell  me  all  about  it." 

The  rough  man  seated  himself  on  the  grass,  tenderly 
took  the  little  curly  head  between  his  rough  palms, 
and  awaited  her  answer.  In  a  moment  the  words 
came  trickling  through  her  sobs  as  she  said : 

"Why,  John,  you  know  my  papa  died.  God  took 
him  up  to  live  with  him,  and  then  the  lawyers  camo 
and  told  mamma  the  house  must  be  sold,  and  that 
uncle  Thomas  was  to  be  my  guardian,  (just  as  though 
my  dear  mamma  could  n't  take  care  of  me  better  than 
any  one  else  in  the  world ; )  and  so  uncle  Thomas  sent 
me  out  here  because  board  was  cheap.  But  mamma 
says  I  shall  come  back  just  as  soon  as  she  can  settle 
things ;  and  you  know  I  get  so  lonesome,  and  then  out 
here  you  all  laugh  at  me  because  I  am  a  girl  and  do  n't 
know  how  to  work.  This  morning  I  asked  auntie  to 
let  me  help  about  the  dishes,  and  she  just  turned  up 
her  nose  and  said,  "you  help."  Then  I  asked  uncle 
to  let  me  help  him  milk,  and  he  said,  "  we  do  n't  milk 


Out  of  ff&r  Sph&re.  17 

ducks  on  our  farm."  Then  I  asked  you,  and  you 
laughed  at  my  little  feet,  and  I  guess  I  will  just  be 
sick  and  go  to  God  and  papa.  But,  John,  I  asked 
God  to  make  my  hands  bigger,  and  I  think  they  are 
beginning  to  grow." 

"  God  bless  you,  little  one,  and  punish  me  if  I  do  n't 
stand  by  you  until  the  last  gun  is  fired.  Here  I  've 
been  thinking  that  you  was  so  proud  of  your  little 
hands  and  feet,  and  you  have  been  praying  to  have 
'em  grow.  I  'm  just  downright  ashamed  of  myself. 
But  there 's  your  aunt  calling  you,  so  run  to  the  house 
now.  Could  n't  you  give  an  old  fellow  a  kiss  ?  Seems 
as  though  'twould  ease  my  conscience." 

"  Haifa  dozen,  if  you  want  them  ; "  and  two  little 
arms  clasped  his  neck,  and  two  pure  lips  kissed  his 
forehead.  Then  Marjory  started  for  the  house,  while 
her  friend  murmured  to  himself,  "  May  God  forgive 
you,  John  T.,  if  you  ever  let  your  prejudices  get  the 
better  of  your  judgment  again." 

Marjory  had  many  times  been  made  very  unhappy 
by  the  thoughtlessness  of  the  family  into  whose  care 
her  guardian  had  entrusted  her,  and  while  the  chil- 
dren of  the  prairie  thought  her  proud  and  vain,  she 
was  starving  for  love  and  sympathy.  Had  she  worn 
a  sun-bonnet  and  dressed  in  calico,  they  would  have 
taken  her  to  their  hearts  at  once ;  but  they  envied  her 
dainty  ruffles  and  broideries,  and  so  clothed  her  with 
the  pride  of  their  own  hearts — since  Marjory,  who  had 
ever  been  accustomed  to  dainty  clothing,  thought  no 
more  of  her  gay  dresses  than  did  these  more  plainly 
dressed  children  of  a  new  calico  or  gingham.  Thus 
2 


18  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

do  all  of  us,  oftentimes  clothe  others  with  our  own 
bad  tempers,  and  have  not  accepted  as  a  fact,  that  in 
all  humanity  there  is  something  of  the  angel ;  that 
underneath  velvet  and  home- spun,  satin  or  calico, 
broad-cloth  or  "jeans,"  beat  loving  hearts  that  in 
various  ways  each  day  progress  towards  angel-hood. 

"Madge,  Oh,  Madge— Marjory,  where  are  you, 
child?" 

"  Bight  here,  coming  as  fast  as  these  ugly  little  feet 
will  let  me.  What  is  it,  auntie?"  (Marjory  had 
bestowed  the  title  of  uncle  and  aunt  upon  the  farmer 
and  his  wife,  to  the  extreme  annoyance  of  a  very 
aristocratic  aunt  who  wrote  to  her:  "  Marjory,  do  n't 
make  relatives  out  of  all  creation  ;  but  then  you  will 
— you  always  would  smile  on  a  darkey  as  sweetly  as 
you  would  on  a  President.") 

"  Nothing  very  particular,  only  'Squire  Larkin's 
boy  just  came  along  with  a  letter  for  us  from  an  old 
friend  of  mine  who  lives  out  in  your  State.  His  boy 
is  coming  out  this  way,  he  says,  and  that  for  the  sake 
of  old  times  they  would  like  to  have  him  make  us  a 
visit.  The  letter  has  been  a  good  while  corning,  and 
I  would  n't  be  surprised  to  see  the  boy  at  any  time. 
Now  his  mother  is  a  prime  housekeeper,  and  I  want 
the  house  to  look  cheerful  like;  so,  suppose  you 
gather  some  flowers  for  the  front  room.  Do  n't  go 
very  far  from  the  house,  and  you  had  best  take  your 
deer  with  you,  so  that  I  can  hear  its  bell  and  know 
where  you  are." 

That  was  a  busy  day  for  Marjory.  The  old  farm- 
house fairly  overflowed  with  blossoms  and  sweet 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  19 

perfume,  while  every  corner  was  invaded  by  her  merry 
songs.  Music  seemed  to  be  her  natural  method  of 
expression.  Every  thing  being  finally  arranged  to 
her  entire  satisfaction,  she  "  curled  up  "  on  the  door- 
step to  rest,  when  a  strange  idea  occurred  to  her,  and 
she  hastened  away  to  the  old  garret. 


"And  this  is  my  old  friend  Reuben's  son.  You  are 
right  welcome,  my  boy,  right  welcome.  You  have 
had  a  warm  ride  across  the  prairies,  I  reckon.  Take 
a  seat  out  here  on  the  old  porch ;  I  guess  it  is  cooler 
here  than  in  the  house.  I  suppose  you  won't  object  to 
resting  a  little." 

"  No,  sir;  I  am  a  little  tired,  and  yet  I  enjoyed  the 
ride  cross  the  prairie  very  mnch.  It  is  a  beautiful 
sight." 

"  Oh !  yes ;  it 's  a  very  good  region  for  corn  ;  but  then 
I  do  n't  see  any  great  beauty  in  it ;  but  there  's 
Marjory,  she  is  always  clapping  her  hands  and  saying, 
' Oh !  how  pretty ; '  but  where  is  the  child,  I  wonder  ? 
Mother,  where  is  Madge?  " 

"  I  declare  I  have  n't  seen  or  heard  her  for  an  hour. 
I  had  just  forgotten  her.  You  had  better  call  her, 
Israel." 

The  farmer's  rough  voice  rasped  the  summer  quiet, 
and  in  a  few  moments  the  surprised  group  looked 
upon  an  improvised  tableau.  There  in  front  of  them 
was  Marjory,  leaning  upon  her  little  fawn ;  her  little 
white  shoulders  peeping  through  a  torn  checked 


20  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

apron;  her  curls  tortured  into  two  straight  braids; 
her  little  feet  almost  lost  in  a  pair  of  auntie's  old 
shoes,  and  the  small  hands  encased  in  enormous  mit- 
tens. Despite  the  disguise,  her  eyes  retained  their 
usual  expression,  and  since  a  familiar  face  is  ever 
gladly  greeted,  when  one  is  far  from  homeand  friends, 
the  stranger  boy-guest  sprang  forw,ard,  and  in  a 
moment  the  little  hands  were  imprisoned,  and  the 
surprised  child  recognized  the  boy  Winthrop,  the 
very  same  one  which  she  in  her  own  home  had 
insulted  by  calling  him  "  Bub ;"  and  so  she  looked  at 
him  a  moment  and  then — ran  away. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  21 

CHAPTER  IT. 

A  TANGLE  OF  QUESTIONS  AND  CARPET-RAGS. 

•'  O,  lift  your  natures  up ; 

Embrace  our  aims ;  work  out  your  freedom.    Girls, 
Knowledge  is  now  no  more  a  fountain  sealed ; 
Drink  deep,  until  the  habits  of  the  slave, 
The  sins  of  emptiness,  gossip,  and  spite, 
And  slander,  die.    Better  not  be  at  all 
Than  not  be  noble." 

"  Wintie,  what  are  little  girls  good  for?  What  can 
they  do?" 

"  Another  of  your  odd  questions.  What  are  little 
girls  good  for?  A  great  many  things,  I  should  think ; 
as  much  as  boys  anyhow.  You  can  feed  the  chickens, 
and  make  bouquets,  and  oh ! — do  a  great  many  things." 

"  Yes,  but  I  do  n't  mean  such  things.  I  mean  some- 
thing to  do  always.  What  are  you  going  to  do  all  the 
time  when  you  get  big  ?  How  are  you  going  to  earn 
money?  Don't  God  mean  for  little  girls  to  work  as 
well  as  boys?" 

"  Oh  !  I  expect  so,  but  I  tell  you  what  I'm  going  to 
be,  I  intend  to  be  a  lawyer ;  but  you — why  you  will 
grow  up,  and  be  a  beautiful,  young  lady  and — get 
married." 

"Well,  won't  you  grow  up  to  be  a  "beautiful," 
young  man — and  get  married  too?  Now,  I'm  going 
to  be  a  preacher — I  am,  certain,  sure.  This  morning 


22  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

auntie  said,  I  tell  you  what,  Marjory,  if  you  was  a  boy 
we  would  make  a  preacher  of  you,  and  I  guess  you'd 
make  your  mark.  Now,  Wintie,  why  can't  I  make 
the  mark  and  be  a  girl  ?  I  went  to  school  one  day  and 
the  teacher  said  I  made  the  best  pot-hooks  there  was. 
Oh !  Wintie,  God  is  so  good  ;  He  made  all  the  beauti- 
ful flowers,  and  told  the  little  birds  how  to  sing,  and 
the  cunning,  little  chickens  how  to  get  out  of  the  eggs, 
and  then  He  sent  you  to  me,  and  I  do  n't  believe  at 
all  He  would  be  so  bad  to  little  girls.  I  will  tell  you 
what  I  think  if  you  won't  ever  tell.  Now,  certain, 
sure,  'pon  honor,  nor  you  won't  laugh  ?  Now,  I  see 
the  laugh  coming  in  your  eyes.  Now,  Wintie,  I  know 
boys  do  n't  know  much  about  such  things,  but  now 
try  to  learn.  You  see,  every  old  woman  tells  me  I 
must  be  a  good  little  girl,  and  stay  at  home  with 
mamma ;  but  I  can't,  'cause  I  have  to  preach,  when  I 
grow  up,  and  so  I  am  just  going  to  buy  a  little  girl  for 
mamma — for  me  and  mamma.  Don't  you  think 
t'would  be  much  nicer  than  dolls  ?" 

"  Oh !  Madge,  what  in  the  world  would  you  do  with 
a  baby  ?  Would  n't  you  look  like  a  cat  with  a  kitten, 
and  what  would  you  do  when  it  cried  ?" 

"  Why  just  give  her  a  little  dose  of  catnip  tea,  and 
roll  her  up  in  a  little  piece  of  flannel.  I  think  t'would 
be  better  than  dolls,  'cause  the  saw-dust  wouldn't 
ahvays  be  spilling.  You  need  n't  laugh  so,  'cause  I 
know  you  will  cry  to  hold  her." 

"  But  where  are  you  to  get  her  ?" 

"  In  New  York,  where  the  man  told  us  about  in 
Sunday-school.  He  said  there  was  lots  of  'em  there. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  23 

But  sometimes  I  think  I  won't  try  to  be  good  any 
more,  'cause  I  can't  be  an  angel  anyhow." 

"  Why  not,  I  think  you  're  pretty  near  one  now. 
What 's  the  trouble  about  that  ?" 

"Well,  I've  been  looking  at  the  pictures,  and  every 
single  angel  has  pretty,  light  hair,  and  mine  just 
grows  blacker  and  blacker  every  day." 

"  I'm  in  luck  this  time;  I  think  I  can  help  you  out 
of  this  trouble.  I  found  a  little  piece  of  poetry  this 
very  morning  about  that,  and  cut  it  out  to  read  to 
you,  so,  listen  : 

THE  LITTLE   EARTH-ANGEL. 

I  used  to  read  of  angels, 

But  their  eyes  were  always  blue ; 
And  as  mine  were  black,  I'd  wonder 

If  I  could  be  one  too. 
I  tried  to  love  my  Savior, 

And  my  neighbor  as  myself; 
But  when  people  saw  my  eyes. 

They  said,  "a  wicked  little  elf." 

I  loved  God's  birds  and  flowers, 

And  the  spark'ling  little  springs, 
Wandering  down  the  mountain  side, 

With  such  strange  murmurings. 
I  longed  to  be  an  angel, 

And  dwell  with  God  in  heaven, 
But  thought  I  never  could  because 

My  hair  was  black  and  even. 

In  vain  I  searched  the  pictures, 

Since  everywhere  I  found, 
That  angels  all  were  very  fair, 

While  I  was  tanned  and  browned. 


24  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

But  one  glad  day,  when  dreaming 

Of  all  that  was  to  be, 
There  came  like  llght'ning's  gleaming 

This  happy  thought  to  me  : 

Altho'  like  angels  up  In  heaven, 

I  may  not  ever  be,— 
Yet  like  an  angel  on  the  earth, 

My  Father  would  have  me. 
So,  kneeling  in  the  sun-light, 

Among  the  flowers  and  birds, 
Out,  through  the  forest's  stillness, 

There  went  to  God  these  words : 

"  Oh  !  Father,  though  I  am  too  brown, 

To  dwell  with  angel's  fair, 
Yet  let  me  be  one  on  the  earth, 

And  serve  Thee  everywhere. 
And  make  me  live  a  long,  long  time, 

Until  my  hair  turns  while  ; 
Until  in  Thy  sight  I  am  fair, 

And  like  an  angel  bright." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  that  is  it  exactly.  1  can  be  a  little  earth- 
angel  until  I  ain  old  and  grey-headed,  and  then  I  can 
go  to  heaven;  and  I  think  I  will  commence  right 
away  and  go  to  see  old  auntie  Jones,  and  read  to  her 
a  little  while." 

"  Well,  I  have  no  objections  to  that ;  but,  Madge,  I 
do  wish  you  would  give  up  teaching  Jack  Lawson  to 
read.  He  is  as  poor  as  Job's  turkey  and  nobody  has 
anything  to  do  with  him.  His  father  does  n't  own  an 
acre  of  ground." 

"  You  say  nobody  has  anything  to  do  with  him ; 
then  I  am  very  glad  that  I  tried  to  be  good  to  him, 
poor  boy.  His  mother  is  dead,  his  father  is  poor,  and 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  25 

nobody  has  anything  to  do  with  him.  No  wonder  he 
is  bad.  Why,  Wintie,  you  would  be  bad  too,  if  you 
had  nobody  to  be  good  for.  Yes,  I  think  you  would 
be  very  bad,  because  I  work  pretty  hard  to  keep  you 
good  now ;  and  me,  when  it  is  so  hard  for  me  to  be 
good  now,  why,  if  nobody  loved  me,  I  would  be — 
would  be — a  perfect  Mrs.  Jack  Lawson.  He  waded 
into  the  water  to  get  me  some  lilies  once,  and  I  know 
a  boy  that  will  do  that  has  some  good  in  him.  I  mean 
to  treat  him  just  as  good  as  I  can.  But  I  must  go 
now ;  so,  good-bye." 

We  watch  her,  as  she  trips  across  the  prairie,  now 
stopping  to  gather  a  cluster  of  brilliant  flowers,  or  to 
bestow  a  caress  upon  her  fawn,  and  yield  her  an 
earnest  benediction. 

"Good  afternoon,  auntie.  Think  you  must  be 
getting  better.  Sitting  up,  and,  what !  sewing,  too?" 

"Ah !  you  're  welcome,  honey ;  and  thanks  to  your 
good  nursin',  I'm  mendin'  fast.  No,  not  much  sewin', 
bless  your  purty  eyes;  I  allers  call  this  next  to 
nothing;  but  then  I  can't  sit  still  and  do  nothin'. 
But  it  does  my  old  eyes  good  to  see  you,  child ;  you 
look  as  fresh  as  the  roses.  Did  you  come  to  read  to 
me  a  spell?" 

"Yes;  but  if  it  will  do  just  as  well,  I  would  like  to 
help  you  sew  those  strips  first." 

"We  don't  call  'em  strips— they 're  only  rags.  I 
used  to  do  my  own  weavin',  but  now  I  just  sew  the 
rags,  and  then  I  get  Jem  wove  for  twenty  cents  a  yard, 
and  then  I  can  get  a  dollar  a  yard  for  the  carpet  In  any 
of  the  stores.  Last  winter  I  earned  nigh  fifty  dollars 
just  by  sewin'  rags." 


26  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

"  Oh  !  the  very  thing.  I  can  do  it,  can't  I  ?  That 's 
the  way  I  can  buy  my  little  girl.  Could  n't  I  do  it?" 

"  To  be  sure  you  could.  But  what  on  airth  do  you 
mean  by  buyin'  a  little  girl  ?" 

Marjory  attempted  to  tell  the  old  lady  her  secret, 
but  as  she  was  somewhat  excited  by  the  discovery 
that  she  could  earn  some  money,  and  as  the  old  lady 
was  quite  deaf,  I  fear  she  did  not  exactly  understand 
the  plan,  in-so-mudi  as,  when  the  child  paused  for 
breath,  the  old  lady  said  : 

"  Yes,  that's  a  very  purty  story,  but 't  was  too  bad 
the  child  was  drowned." 

Marjory  did  not  exactly  walk  home — she  pranced 
and  danced  and  skipped  and  frisked,  and  in  fact  I 
think  she  did  every  thing  but  walk.  Her  future 
resolved  itself  into  a  tangle  of  brown,  blue,  black, 
yellow,  white,  and  grey  rags ;  then  in  imagination 
they  were  wound  into  beautiful  balls,  and  then  she 
stepped  daintily  as  though  walking  upon  a  new  car- 
pet. When  she  came  in  sight  of  the  farm-house,  or 
rather,  as  soon  as  Winthrop  caught  a  glimpse  of  her 
blue  dress,  he  hastened  to  meet  her,  and,  of  course, 
was  speedily  informed  of  her  discovery. 

"  Oh !  Wintie,  who  would  have  thought  that  I  would 
find  something  so  soon  ?  There  is  something  girls  can 
do — they  can  make  rag  carpets,  not  weave  them,  but 
just  sew  rags.  Aint  it  splendid  ?  " 

"  I  told  you  if  you  would  only  keep  your  eyes  open, 
you  would  find  something  to  do.  I  guess  there  's 
plenty  of  work  in  the  world  for  those  that  want  it. 
But  how  much  will  you  give  me  for  a  letter?  " 

"  Oh !  any  thing  you  want.    Give  it  to  me  quick. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  27 

It 's  from  mamma.  You  read  it  to  me,  'cause  you 
can  do  it  faster." 

They  sat  down  upon  the  grass  and  read  the  letter, 
which  changed  all  their  childish  plans  and  sobered 
both  of  them.  Marjory's  mother  could  not  endure 
the  separation  any  longer,  and  would  send  her  brother 
for  her  in  a  day  or  two. 

"  Oh !  Wintie,  I  shall  miss  you  dreadful,  but  I  do 
want  to  see  my  precious  mamma,  and  my  dear 
teacher,  and  the  horse,  and  Rover ;  and  you  can  come 
to  see  me,  and  I  guess  't  will  be  nicer  than  it  is  now." 

"  No,  it  won't.  I  never  expect  to  go  to  see  you — so 
there.  You  will  go  back  to  your  fine  home,  and  your 
fine  clothes,  and  you  will  grow  up  to  be  a  lady,  and  I 
will  be  just  a  farmer,  and  you  won't  want  to  see  me. 
I  know  you  think  you  will,  but  you  won't." 

"Well,  I  guess  I  know.  What  if  I  do  grow  to  be  a 
lady— won't  you  grow  to  be  a  gentleman  ?  What  if  I 
do  wear  nice  clothes— won't  it  be  me  in  them?  God 
will  take  care  of  us  just  the  same.  I  shall  ask  Him 
every  day  to  make  you  the  goodest  boy,  and,  oh !  I 
mean  to  try  harder  to  write  plain,  and  I  '11  write  you 
the  longest  letters.  So,  there;  now  let's  go  to  the 
house  and  talk  to  auntie  about  it." 


28  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

OHAPTEE    V. 

THREADS   AND  THRUMS. 

•'First,  then,  a  woman  will,  or  won't,  depend  on 't; 
If  she  will  do 't,  she  will ;  and  there 's  an  end  on  't; 
But  if  she  won't,  since  safe  and  sound  your  trust  is, 
Fear  is  affront,  and  jealousy  injustice." 

"  If  ever  I  see  the  beat  o'  ye  in  my  life.  What 
upon  airth  are  ye  up  to  now?"  (and  housekeeper 
Jane  dropped  a  stitch  in  her  knitting,  and  stopped 
rocking  so  suddenly  that  she  almost  pitched  forward, 
so  much  astonished  was  she  at  Marjory's  appearance.) 
What  hev  you  been  rumagin'  for,  and  'twas  just  las't 
week  that  I  packed  them  things  away  in  pepper  and 
camphire?" 

"  Yes,  I  guess  so,  'cause  my  head  is  pretty  much 
sneezed  off,  but  I  guess  its  being  shooken  out  now.  I 
am  going  to  sew  rags,  so  put  up  your  knitting  and 
help  me  cut  these  all  into  little  strips,  won't  you?" 

Many  days  have  passed  since  Marjory's  visit  to 
"  Auntie  Jones,"  but  not  until  now,  the  first  surprise 
of  finding  herself  once  again  in  her  own  home  being 
over,  has  she  been  able  to  execute  her  project  in 
regard  to  the  rag  carpet.  This  afternoon  has  been 
devoted  to  a  voyage  of  discovery,  and  she  has  spoiled 
the  old  garret  of  its  treasures,  to  the  consternation  of 
housekeeper  Jane  and  the  amusement  of  her  brother 
and  mother. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  29 

"  Well,  Madge,  if  you  do  n't  look  like  a  rag-picker. 
What's  up  now  ?" 

"  Not  much  up  garret  any  way,  'cause  I've  brought 
most  everything  down.  These  are  to  sew ;  I  am 
going  to  make  a  carpet  to  buy  my  baby  with." 

"  But  I  thought  you  did  n't  like  rag  babies?" 

"Oh!  that  aint  it;  but  you're  a  boy,  you  don't 
know  anything  'bout  such  things,  does  he,  ma  ?" 

"  He  only  wishes  to  tease  you  a  little,  Birdie,  you 
cannot  buy  a  baby.  They  used  to  sell  little  black 
babies,  but,  thank  God,  that  wicked  practice  is  ended. 
I  am  glad  you  wish  to  do  something  for  the  poor, 
little  children,  and  you  can  save  your  money  and 
send  it  to  some  good  man  or  women  who  will  buy 
clothes  and  food  for  some  little  ones." 

"No,  no,  I  don't  want  to  do  that,  I  want  a  little 
girl  of  my  own.  That  man  said  they  sent  out  a  car 
full  sometimes  to  people  that  had  n't  any,  and  oh !  I 
want  one  so  bad." 

"Well,  well,  don't  cry  about  it,  and  when  you 
finish  your  carpet,  pet,  we  will  see  what  can  be  done. 
See  here,  look  at  this  little  pair  of  pants.  One  day 
your  brother  came  home  from  school  crying  as  though 
his  heart  would  break  ;  he  said  c  ma,  you  do  n't  make 
my  clothes  one  bit  like  the  other  boys,  they  all  have  a 
little  piece,  a  little,  square  piece  of  another  kind,  right 
over  each  knee.'  I  promised  him  that  he  should  have 
a  fashionable  pair,  and  that  night  I  put  a  large  patch 
over  each  knee  of  his  new  pants,  and  he  went  to 
school  perfectly  happy." 

"  Yes,  and  if  you  '11  excuse  me  for  say  in'  it,  that's 


30  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

jest  the  way  you  spile  your  children  ;  huraorin'  every 
notion,  and  lettin'  Marjory  tear  up  the  whole  house  to 
make  a  carpet  that  you  know  she  '11  never  finish." 
"  Pet,  will  you  get  a  glass  of  water  for  mamma?" 
Marjory  flitted  away,  and  in  her  absence,  Mrs. 
Warner  said,  "  Jane,  I  do  n't  know  that  Marjory  will 
finish  the  carpet,  but  I  am  glad  she  has  a  desire  to 
commence  it.  God  seems  to  have  given  her  a  loving 
heart;  she  is  a  real,  little  philanthropist,  and,  being  a 
girl,  she  will  be  sufficiently  hedged  in  without  my 
assistance.  There  is  seldom  any  need  for  suppressing 
unselfishness.  At  first  her  idea  of  buying  a  baby 
seemed  absurd,  but  it  actually  brought  the  tears  to  my 
eyes  to  see  the  cunning,  little  toad  seated  in  her  little 
chair,  working  so  patiently  to  earn  money  to  buy  a 
poor,  little  baby.  I  doubt  not  the  good  Father 
accepts  such  pure,  childish  endeavors,  as  his  sweetest 
praise.  She  says  she  wants  to  be  a  preacher,  and  that 
her  little  girl  is  to  live  with  me,  and  to  take  care  of 
me  while  she  preaches,  and  I  really  wonder  if  God 
gives  little  girls  such  desires  without  designing  that 
they  should  be  heeded?" 

Her  questioning  had  grown  into  a  soliloquy ;  and 
how  many  mothers  seated  by  girl-children,  watching 
with  tenderest  love  the  first,  feint  indications  of 
genius,  taste,  or  individuality,  do  not  thus  soliloquize, 
and  hesitate  ere  they  attempt  to  crowd  the  little  soul 
into  the  straight-jacket  woven  by  the  old  tyrant,  Cus- 
tom, which  renders  them  custom-made  articles  in- 
stead of  God's  free  angels.  God  gives  the  child  genius 
for  art,  and  the  world  needs  art;  but  Custom  produces 


Out  of  Her  /Sphere.  31 

the  straight-jacket,  and  says,  "God  has  made  a  mis- 
take ;  art  is  for  boys ;  you  are  to  wash  dishes  and  keep 
house."  God  sends  the  gift  of  song  and  bids  his 
girl-child  write.  Write  earnest,  tender,  womanly  words 
— mother-words  for  the  great,  sin-sick  world.  But, 
Custom  says,  "  God  mistook  you  for  a  boy;  He  meant 
you  should  live  for  love;  touch  literature,  and,  being 
a  woman,  you  fail  of  love,  therefore,  bury  your  talent, 
hide  it,  toy  with  the  broom,  let  not  an  ink-stain  soil 
your  fingers,  so  shall  you  win  a  husband." 

God  says,  to  another  loved  one,  "  The  world  grows 
tired  of  the  masculine  voice ;  go  use  your  woman's 
tones;  go  plead  with  men  and  women  to  leave  off 
selfishness  and  come  up  higher.  Think  what  my 
Christ  hath  done  for  you ;  will  ye  not  confess  Him?  " 
The  woman's  heart  beats  back  an  earnest,  "  yea, 
Lord."  But  the  Christian  church  writes  over  its  pul- 
pits, "  sacred  to  men."  In  the  Christian  prayer-meet- 
ing, good  brothers  lament  the  scarcity  of  laborers. 
They  urge  that  the  field  is  white  for  the  harvest  but 
the  laborers  are  few.  A  woman,  one  of  the  teachers 
of  the  world,  arises,  and  in  earnest  tones  says,  "here 
am  I,  send  me."  These  Christian  men,  shrink  back 
aghast !  "  God  has  made  another  mistake,  my  sister, 
your  desire  to  work  for  Christ  comes  from  the  evil 
one;  overcome  it,  hush  these  thoughts,  crowd  back 
the  high  resolve,  and  dumb  and  silent  learn  of  men." 

Better  that  an  ignorant  world  continue  in  idolatry, 
than  that  it  hear  of  Christ  through  woman's  lips. 
Because  of  Paul,  say  they.  We  answer,  if  you  accept 
the  command,  "  Let  your  women  keep  silence  in  the 


32  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

churches !  "  then,  banish  at  once  every  woman  from 
your  Sabbath-schools  since  they  not  only  speak,  but 
teach.  Do  not  intrust  your  children  to  the  care  of 
teachers  who  are  deprived  of  the  benefit  of  spiritual 
consultation. 

These  and  similar  questions  will  confront  Marjory's 
maturer  thought,  but  as  yet  she  is  all  unconscious  of 
woman's  peculiar  position  in  the  world  of  usefulness 
and  labor,  and  so  crows  and  sings,  although,  the  rags 
tangle  and  her  needle  is  sticky.  She  has  commenced 
her  life-work,  she  has  chosen  a  live  baby  rather  than 
dolls ;  she  will  never  be  satisfied  with  toys,  she  is 
destined  to  get  "out  of  her  sphere,"  since  even  now 
she  is  dreaming  of  winning  her  way.  God  has  given 
her  wings ;  she  is  poising  for  flight.  The  world  may 
shut  her  in  a  cage,  but  genius  and  love  will  open  the 
door ;  she  is  destined  to  fly. 


Out  of  Her  /Sphere.  33 


OHAPTEE    YI. 

THE    COMING   WOMAN. 

"  Talk  not  to  me  of  woman's  sphere, 
Nor  point  with  Scripture-texts  a  sneer, 
Nor  wrong  the  manliest  saint  of  all, 
By  doubt,  if  he  were  here,  that  Paul 
Would  own  the  heroines  who  have  lent 
Grace  to  truth's  stern  arbitrament, 
Foregone  the  praise  to  woman  sweet, 
And  cast  their  crowns  at  duty's  feet." 

SATURDAY  MORNING. 

"  Hurricane  Hall." 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER  :— If  you  was  here  I  would 
make  you  guess  what  has  happened ;  but  as  you  aint, 
I  guess  I  won't.  Just  the  most  beautifullest  thing  you 
can  think  of,  and  that 's  why  I  have  n't  sent  you  a 
letter  for  so  long.  Well,  one  morning  I  was  washing 
the  dishes,  and  every  thing  went  wrong.  I  put  the 
biscuits  in  the  closet,  and  set  my  pan  of  dish-water  in 
the  oven,  and  then  hunted  for  it,  (and  oh !  you  know 
what  funny  things  I  can  do ; )  and  then  I  commenced 
talking  to  myself,  and  I  said  it 's  just  another  "every 
day ; "  I  don't  have  any  more  best  days  at  all.  They 
are  all  real  calico  days,  and  faded  calico  at  that ;  and 
so  I  leaned  on  the  old  table  and  looked  out  the  win- 
dow, and  just  wished  and  wished  that  I  was  a  boy, 
so  that  I  could  earn  money,  and  go  to  college,  and  be 
3 


34  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

somebody.  And  it  did  n't  do  a  bit  of  good  ;  and  the 
dish-water  was  just  as  cold  and  greasy,  and  I  was  as 
cross  as — a  saw-buck,  when,  oh !  the  splendid  thing 
happened.  It  seemed  just  like 'twas  fairy  times.  I 
looked  out  the  window  once  more,  and  there  was  a 
carriage  with  two  horses,  white  horses,  coming  right 
up  to  the  front  door.  It  stopped,  and  that  little  girl 
that  called  you  "  Bub,"  and  that  was  out  on  the  prairie 

where  you  was,  she  jumped  out,  and now  guess 

what  she  wanted  ?  She  wanted  me  to  go  home  with 
her  and  make  her  a  visit,  'cause  you  was  good  to  her ; 
(aint  I  glad  you  was  good  ?)  She  brought  a  note  from 
her  mother,  and  at  last  mother  said  I  could  go,  and  I 
hardly  thought  it  was  Daisy  when  I  was  going  fast  in 
the  nice  carriage,  with  the  beautifullest,  blackest  driver. 
I  staid  three  weeks,  and  don't  you  think,  Marjory 
wore  calico  and  gingham  dresses  all  the  time,  'cause 
mine  were  that — even  to  a  party,  though  she  had 
prettier  ones.  Oh !  I  tell  you  she 's  splendid  and  jolly ! 
I  like  her  better  than  the  girls  in  the  Sunday-school 
books,  I  think;  but  I  don't  think  she  will  die  very 
young,  'cause  she  likes  to  play  hide-and-seek,  and  she 
does  get  a  little  spunky  sometimes ;  but  she  says  her 
prayers  a  good  deal.  But  she  do  n't  want  to  be  a  boy. 
She  says  she  intends  to  do  whatever  God  wants  her  to, 
and  be  a  girl;  thinks  may-be  she  will  preach.  Aint 
that  a  jolly  joke?  My  arm  aches  dreadful,  so  good- 
bye. 

Your  loving  sister, 

DAISY  WRIGHT. 

This  letter  was   given  to  Winthrop   by   Warren 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  35 

Huntington,  a  wealthy  bachelor  from  New  York,  who 
had  gone  to  the  prairie  to  rusticate,  and  who  had  con- 
ceived a  real  friendship  for  the  boy  Winthrop.  After 
giving  him  the  letter,  Mr.  Huntington  had  seated 
himself  upon  the  grass  beside  him,  and  as  Winthrop 
finished  reading  the  missive,  he  said :  "  Come,  my 
boy,  do  n't  be  selfish ;  share  your  pleasures  with  your 
friends,  and  unless  that  is  a  love-letter,  read  it  to  me, 
in-as-much  as  I  have  n't  any  of  my  own  to  read." 

Winthrop  was  remarkably  proud  of  his  little  sister, 
and  so  gladly  read  the  letter  to  his  friend,  little  dream- 
ing what  a  service  he  was  rendering  not  only  Daisy, 
but  Marjory.  The  moment  he  ceased  reading,  Mr. 
Huntington  said:  "Tell  me  everything  you  know 
about  this  little  girl  she  writes  about.  I  tell  you,  that 
is  just  the  most  graceful  little  act  of  self-denial  I  have 
ever  heard  of.  One  little  girl  wearing  calico  and  ging- 
ham because  her  little  guest  had  n't  any  thing  better. 
Does  n't  want  to  be  a  boy,  either  !  If  I  was  a  betting 
character,  I  would  venture  half  my  fortune  that  ?he 
will  develop  into  a  strong-minded  woman." 

"Oh,  no  sir,  indeed  she  won't.  Why,  she  is  even 
now  making  a  rag  carpet  to  sell,  in  order  to  buy  a 
baby.  You  mistake,  I  said  she  did  not  want  to  be  a 
man,  and  you  know  all  these  strong-minded  women 
do." 

"  I  do  n't  know  anything  of  the  kind  ;  they  are  the 
most  womanly  women  in  the  world ;  womanly,  not 
feminine.  You  will  understand  the  distinction  when 
you  are  older ;  I  see  you  have  gained  your  ideas  from 
the  newspapers.  Bead  the  carefully  written  accounts 


36  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

of  their  lives  and  you  will  discover,  my  boy,  that 
these  women  are  happy  wives  and  mothers. 

They  are  possessed  with  souls;  that  though  they 
have  happy  homes  and  friends,  and  love,  they  see 
daily,  many  women  who  have  no  homes ;  women 
who  are  struggling  with  poverty,  and  who  cannot 
secure  equal  wages  with  men  for  equal  labor,  and 
these  women  consecrate  to  their  suffering  sisters  their 
intellects  and  powers,  and  it  is  a  true  Christian  philan- 
thropy. Tell  me,  boy,  who  has  told  you  most  about 
your  country  ?  which  of  your  parents  have  explained 
to  you  the  Fourth  of  July — your  father  or  your 
mother?" 

"  Oh !  mother  of  course,  father  is  always  too  busy." 

"  You  think  then  she  knows  as  much  about  the 
country  as  you  do?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  what  a  question." 

"Well,  then,  when  you  are  twenty -one  do  n't  have 
the  impudence  to  turn  around  to  that  good  mother 
and  say,  *  I  don't  think  I  am  quite  prepared  to  have 
you  vote.'  However,  I  think  I  may  safely  commit 
you  to  the  care  of  your  friend  Marjory,  but  in  the 
mean  time  I  must  see  her ;  my  house  is  a  home  for 
just  such  girls.  You  see  it  is  all  selfishness  on  my 
part.  When  I  am  old  I  want  to  hold  a  niche  in  the 
hearts  of  some  of  our  noblest  women,  and  they  are  to 
be  made  out  of  just  such  girls  as  this  one.  When  I 
find  a  little  girl  with  sufficient  moral  courage  to  wear 
a  calico  dre<s  to  a  party  because  a  friend  has  nothing- 
better,  I  am  just  as  sure  that  she  will  develop  into  a 
noble  womanhood  as  I  am  that  these  silly,  young  girls 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  37 

who  take  the  trouble  to  assure  wife-hunting  young 
men  that  they  are  not  at  all  strong-minded ;  (little 
geese,  nobody  ever  suspected  they  were ;  )  and  that 
they  have  all  the  rights  they  want ;  I  say,  just  as  sure 
am  I  that  these  girls  will  develop  into  silly,  selfish, 
exacting  wives.  Ah  !  I  tell  you  my  lad,  I  urn  not  an 
old  bachelor  for  nothing;  I  know  girls — I  have 
studied  them,  and  now  let  me  give  you  a  little 
advice. 

"  When  you  meet  a  prudish,  clinging  girl,  a  girl 
who  says,  with  a  sweet,  womanly  voice  that  she  can- 
not understand  how  some  girls  can  sing  in  public,  even 
for  the  benefit  of  the  poor,  or  that  she  would  do  any- 
thing, rather  than  stay  in  a  store  as  some  other  girl 
does,  you  be  sure  to  find  out  if  she  is  not  also  unwil- 
ling to  wash  dishes  for  the  bpnefit  of  a  poor  mother 
who  is  a  slave  to  this  little  idler.  Be  sure  that  this 
indifference  to  all  good  objects  is  not  an  out-growth  of 
intense  selfishness.  "Still  waters  run  deep."  Give  me 
the  impulsive,  clear,  laughing,  wayward  brook  that 
dashes  on  to  the  sea,  broidering  its  banks  with  fra- 
grant blossoms,  quenching  the  thirst  of  cattle,  or  of 
weary  laborers,  or  of  little  children  hunting  for  but- 
ter-cups— aye,  give  me  this  veritable  laughing  water, 
with  all  of  its  wild  impulses  constantly  getting  out  of 
its  "  sphere,"  but  running  and  prattling  and  blessing 
wherever  it  goes,  and  finally  reaching  the  great  ocean 
of  usefulness,  rather  than  that  quiet,  grum,  little  pool 
growing  green  with  jealousy,  and  sometimes  tremb- 
ling with  vexation  at  the  audacious  little  brook,  but 
never,  oh !  never  forgetting  its  own  identity  as  a 
very  proper  pool. 


38  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

"And  it  is  just  so  with  boys,  although,  for  some 
reason,  I  have  not  found  them  as  fascinating  a  study 
as  girls.  Whenever  you  see  boys  or  hear  them  say- 
ing, that  they  do  n't  want  their  sisters  and  mothers  to 
vote,  because  they  would  receive  insults  from  bad 
men,  rest  assured  that  they  are  the  very  kind  who 
hold  the  morning  papers  up  close  to  their  faces,  and 
are  entirely  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  ladies  are 
standing  up  in  the  street-car  or  in  the  ferry-boats. 

"  They  are  exactly  the  boys  who,  with  long  faces, 
assure  their  sisters,  that  they  would  be  happy  to  take 
them  to  the  minstrels,  but  really  it  isn't  just  the 
place  for  a  girl,  and  then  order  a  carriage  and 
take  some  other  boy's  sister.  Yes,  and  some  of  these 
days  when  it  becomes  fashionable,  they  will  declare 
they  always  have  been  in  favor  of  woman  suffrage, 
and  they  will  engage  a  carriage  a  month  before- 
hand to  take  some  other  man's  sister  to  the  polls. 
How  do  I  know?  because  true  men  have  faith  in 
manhood;  because  he  knows  that  he  would  protect 
his  mother  or  sister  at  the  polls  just  as  effectually  as 
he  does  at  the  post-offices,  in  railroad  cars,  or  on  the 
streets.  A  true  man  would  not  thus  thrust  aside  a 
grand  idea,  nor  desire  to  have  a  right  yield  to  expe- 
diency. But  I  have  sermonized  enough,  and  so, 
Winthrop,  if  you  want  to  be  a  complete  success,  try 
to  win  a  strong-minded  woman.'' 

"I'll  never  do  it,"  replied  Winthrop. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  39 


CHAPTER    VII. 

MARJORY  KNOCKS  AT  GATES  WHICH  ARE  SACRED 
TO   BOYS. 

"  This  world  is  a  nettle  ;  disturb  it,  it  stings; 
Grasp  it  firmly,  it  stings  not. 
(Disfranchised}  a  woman  is  too  slight  a  thing, 
To  trample  the  world  without  feeling  it's  sting. 

Five  years  have  passed.  Five  years  have  written 
their  story  on  our  Marjory's  face,  for  her's  was  a  face 
with  a  story  to  tell.  And  what  do  we  read  in  her  fair, 
girlish  face  this  morning  ?  High  resolves  for  a  noble 
life-work?  We  might  yesterday  ;  but  to-day,  on  this 
glorious  autumn  morning,  we  read  a  sad,  sad  story. 
With  her  small,  white  hands,  (hands  destined  to 
become  thin  and  mournful,)  she  endeavored  to  open 
the  golden  gate  of  womanhood — the  gate  leading  up 
to  the  temple  of  usefulness— when  she  suddenly  found 
herself  stunned  and  bruised  by  the  ragged  edges  of  a 
stolid  wall.  Quite  near  her  was  a  crystal  gate,  but 
over  it  was  written,  "  Sacred  to  boys."  Through  this 
gate  her  brother  had  entered ;  he  had  received  a 
"  welcome  "  and  "  God  speed  "  from  the  learned  and 
good,  and  in  the  first  enthusiasm  of  a  successful  entree, 
had  forgotten  the  little,  mournful  sister,  standing  cold 
and  hungry  outside  the  gate.  Not  hungry  for  bread, 
but  soul-hungry  for  an  education.  Yes,  on  this  autumn 


40  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

morning,  Marjory's  only  brother  had  entered  college, 
while  she  sat  in  her  little  room,  glancing  vacantly  at 
a  little  note  which  politely  assured  her  that  for  such 
as  her  there  was  no  room.  Silent  and  motionless  as  a 
statue  was  she  for  a  time,  and  then  the  hasty,  bitter, 
rebellious  thoughts  came  crowding  and  surging 
through  her  soul,  until  she  cried  out,  "  Oh,  God !  why 
didst  Thou  give  me  these  intense  desires,  and  then 
allow  me  to  be  mocked  ?  Why  must  women  bear  not 
only  the  physical  pain,  but  the  mental  anguish  of  the 
world?  If  being  a  woman,  prevents  me  from  serving 
Thee  on  the  earth,  then  I  pray  Thee,  take  me  to  Thy- 
self." 

"My child!  my  child!  " 

Ah !  what  depths  of  tenderest  sympathy  can  a 
mother  crowd  into  just  two  words? 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  know  I  'm  wicked,  but  being  a  girl, 
it  does  not  matter.  Men  like  a  touch  of  wickedness, 
they  say,  and  all  I  have  to  do  in  life  is  to  catch  a  hus- 
band, since  that  is  a  girl's  peculiar  work.  Why  did 
God  send  me  into  the  world  with  this  intense  desire 
to  preach  His  beautiful  Gospel?  Why  has  He  given 
me  this  intense  desire  for  education,  and  then  bound 
me  hand  and  foot?  Ah!  He  has  not  done  it.  My 
heart  tells  me  that  my  Heavenly  Father  has  not  made 
a  mistake.  The  fault  is  the  world's.  But,  mother, 
with  God  on  my  side,  I  will  succeed  yet;  but,  oh! 
this  world  is  a  hard  place  for  girls." 

"My  child,  custom  and  prejudice  have  not  only 
manacled  girl's  hands,  but  in  so  doing,  they  have 
deprived  boys  of  much  needed  assistance.  Your 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  4  I 

brother,  strong,  manly  boy  that  he  is,  wept  as  bitterly 
as  you  do  now,  this  morning,  because  he  could  not  be 
an  artist.  He  said,  with  a  widowed  mother  and  a 
sister  dependent  upon  him,  he  must  adopt  some  pro- 
fession which  would  insure  him  a  competency,  and  so 
he  gives  up  his  cherished  idea,  and  adopts  an  irksome 
profession.  Meanwhile  his  grandfather  and  many  of 
his  friends  are  greatly  disappointed  because  he  does 
not  choose  the  ministry." 

"Oh!  mother,  he  shall  be  a  preacher.  He  shall 
preach  through  his  pictures,  and  I  will  preach  from 
the  pulpit,  and  he  shall  not  study  law  in  order  to  sup- 
port us.  We  will  support  ourselves.  Ah,  there  are 
three  of  us,  and  with  each  other's  love  we  can  defy 
the  prejudices  of  the  world.  I  feel  so  strong  now.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  I  could  not  tread  the  thorny  path 
for  my  own  sake,  but  I  can  for  brother's.  Ah,  God 
has  given  me  something  to  do— save  my  brother  for 
art,  and  once  out  of  my  sphere,  I  will  find  my  pulpit." 

"  But,  my  child,  you  need  love.  You  will  need  it 
as  you  grow  older,  and  possibly,  if  you  adopt  this 
independent  course,  you  will  sacrafice  to  it  love  and 
a  home." 

"  Possibly — and  yet — God  will  take  care  of  that. 
With  his  approval,  and  a  consciousness  of  duty  per- 
formed, I  can  walk  alone,  if  needs  be.  And  now, 
what  can  I  do  ?  They  will  not  admit  me  to  college ; 
I  cannot  afford  to  go  from  home,  and  so,  mother,  you 
and  I  must  educate  myself,  We  will  do  our  best,  and 
I  think  God  will  help  us  over  the  hard  places." 

"There   is    that    fifty    dollars   you   earned— your 


42  Out  of  Her  /Sphere. 

rag-carpet  money.  You  hav  n't  found  your  baby  yet, 
and  I  think  you  might  take  that  and  hire  a  teacher 
for  a  time,  at  least." 

"  Mother,  it  would  seem  like  stealing  if  I  touched 
that  money,  and  now,  since  you  say  I  am  destiued  to 
be  an  old  maid,  I  shall  try  to  buy  the  baby,  so  that 
she  can  take  care  of  my  parsonage.  No,  I  will  not 
touch  that  money." 

The  autumn  sunshine  shimmered  through  the  room 
and  glorified  the  world.  God  created  it  for  shining, 
and  it  shone.  The  birds  sang  out  fearlessly  the  tunes 
He  taught  them,  and  every  flower  preserved  its 
own  individuality  of  coloring,  form  and  fragrance, 
and  honored  the  Creator  in  blooming.  At  the  Wed- 
nesday evening  prayer-meeting  the  good  president 
prayed  that  God  would  send  additional  students  to 
their  "  Institution,"  and  another  prayed  that  "labor- 
ers might  be  found  who  would  go  forth  into  the 
fields,  now  white  for  the  harvest;"  meanwhile, 
Marjory,  kneeling  in  her  room,  prayed,  "  Father, 
guide  me  in  my  life-work;  help  me  to  teach  myself; 
and,  if  it  be  Thy  will,  let  me  work  in  Thy  vine- 
yard." 

Oh !  prejudice  and  custom,  how  much  longer  will 
ye  refuse  the  great  reserve  force  God  has  in  store  for 
the  purification  of  the  world  ? 

How  long  shall  the  church  rivet  chains  of  silence 
upon  two-thirds  of  her  children  and  so  deprive  the 
world  of  a  knowledge  of  two-thirds  of  it's  religious 
experience  ? 

How  long  shall  "  Alma  Mater,"  (unnatural  mother 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  43 

that  she  is,)  continue  to  recognize  only  sons  as  her 
children.  Think  of  it,  that  ignorance  and  prejudice 
have  written  upon  temples  erected  to  Minerva, 
goddess  of  wisdom,  (why  was  a  woman  chosen?) 
"  Sacred  to  Men."  They  woo  the  goddess  of  eloquence, 
pleading  at  Calliope's  shrine  for  the  wonderful  gift, 
and  yet  sneer  at  girls  who  aspire  to  the  lyceum  or 
pulpit.  And  yet,  and  yet,  we  bide  our  time,  confi- 
dent that  ere  long  we  shall  secure  a  little,  mystic 
talisman,  which  shall  prove  to  be  a  key.  to  this  crystal 
gate — for  when  women  legislate,  they  will  not  tax 
themselves  to  build  colleges  from  which  they  are 
excluded. 


44  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

"  A  GIRL  OF  THE  PERIOD." 

"Beauty  and  wit  her  shoulders  bare, 
Strode  with  her  diamond  front  in  air. 
There  beauty  walked  too  oft  a  shell, 
A.  bower  of  roses  'round  a  cell ; 
A  casket  exquisitely  bright, 
With  not  a  jewel  hid  trora  sight." 

Since  brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit,  we  will  be  brief, 
nor  linger  for  the  preluding  music,  but  at  once  utter 
the  magical,  presto!  when  lo!  the  curtain  rises  and 
we  have  entire  change  of  scene,  and,  dramatis  persona. 
Avaunt !  ye  maidens  and  bachelors  possessed  of  strong 
minds  and  ''strong-minded"  ideas.  Life  is  not  a 
glorious  battle,  it  is  a  rose-colored  dream  of  love,  and 
here  shall  beauty  and  weak-mindedness  reign  su- 
preme. According  to  "  Thackery,"  remember,  I  quote 
the  man  "  Thackery,"  you  gentlemen,  (if  perchance 
a  gentlemen  yields  his  attention  to  only  a  girl,}  will 
at  once  take  this  new  heroine  to  your  hearts,  while 
women  will  skip  the  chapter.  For.  turn  to  Vanity 
Fair  and  read  this  assertion.  "  But  though  virtue  is 
a  much  finer  thing,  and  those  hapless  creatures  who 
suffer  under  the  misfortune  of  good  looks  ought  to  be 
continually  put  in  mind  of  the  fate  that  awaits  them  ; 
and,  though  very  likely  the  heroic  female  character 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  45 

which  women  admire  is  a  more  glorious  and  beautiful 
object  than  the  kind,  fresh,  smiling,  artless,  little,  ten- 
der, domestic  goddess  whom  men  are  inclined  to  wor- 
ship ;  yet  the  latter  and  inferior  sort  of  women  must 
have  this  consolation,  that  men  do  admire  them  after 
all,  and  in  fact  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  to  be  de- 
spised by  her  own  sex  is  a  very  great  compliment  to  a 
woman,"  That  last  sentence  might  supply  thought 
for  a  sermon,  but  we  crowd  back  the  indignant  pro- 
test, and  calmly  assert  that  our  heroine  number  two, 
whom  we  now  introduce  as  Maude  Johnstone,  (the  "  e  " 
being  added  by  the  last  generation,  which  is  entirely 
represented  by  our  heroine,)  has  always  been  admired 
and  loved  by  men  and  disliked  by  women.  Why  ? 

Not  solely  because  men  admire  her,  but  because  she 
is  not  lovable  or  lovely  to  women.  She  is  invited  out 
to  tea  with  a  party  of  girl  friends ;  she  comes  late, 
mopes  in  a  corner  over  the  last  fashion  plate,  won't 
sing  a  note,  "wouldn't  give  a  cent  to  play  croquet 
with  girls,"  and  scarcely  rouses  or  moves  until  supper 
is  announced ;  evinces  a  creditable  degree  of  energy  at 
the  tea-table;  brightens  perceptably  when  the  girls 
go  up  stairs  to  "primp"  for  the  "  boys,"  and  when 
the  door-bell  rings  and  a  masculine  voice  floats  up 
from  the  hall  below,  she  actually  brightens  sufficiently 
to  tell  the  girls  some  story  so  tinged  with  indelicacy 
that  the  gay,  impulsive,  strong-minded  girls  actually 
blush  at  her  lack  of  womanliness.  Down  stairs  by 
gas-light,  in  the  presence  of  young  men,  she  is  every- 
thing that  is  modest,  brilliant,  and  fascinating,  and 
the  boys  wonder  why  their  sisters  don't  like  her  and 
think  it  must  be  girlish  jealousy. 


46  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

But  let  no  one  dare  to  cast  a  stone  at  her.  She  is 
the  legitimate  outgrowth  of  the  teaching  of  society. 
From  baby-hood  she  has  been  taught  that  her  life- 
work  was  to  secure  a  living,  a  support  for  her  widowed 
mother  and  herself,  by  winning  a  rich  husband. 
When  at  one  time  she  even  proposed  to  take  a  few 
music  scholars,  her  bachelor  undo  said,  "  no  need  of  a 
girl  with  such  eyes  and  hair  as  yours,  working  for  her 
living;  you  can  marry  an  'establishment'  any  day." 

And  so  Maude  accepted  the  situation  and  "  with  all 
the  rights  she  wanted,"  with  no  desire  to  "  get  out  of 
her  sphere  "  she  adopted  as  her  life-work,  husband- 
hunting.  Possessed  of  tact,  wit,  and  energy,  she  em- 
ployed them  all,  and  was  destined  to  achieve  success. 
She  knew  that  successful  lawyers  studied  law  faithfully; 
that  successful  physicians  studied  the  art  of  healing ; 
she  knew  that  study  was  essential,  and  so  she  studied 
the  art  of  winning  masculine  love;  she  studied  the 
novelists  who  were  admitted  to  be  the  most  faithful 
portrayers  of  human  nature,  and  she  discovered  that 
beauty,  artlessness  and  simplicity  were  the  character- 
istics men  worshipped,  and  so  she  jealously  guarded 
and  cultivated  physical  beauty,  learned  the  delicate 
accomplishments  of  being  artfully  artless,  and  could 
at  command  be  queen  of  all  that  was  tiresome.  In 
fact  she  deserves  credit  for  her  energy,  and  if  she  suc- 
ceeds the  world  will  applaud. 

Come  with  me  now  into  the  home  of  our  heroine 
and  listen  to  this  "little,  artless,  domestic  goddess  " 
prattle  about  her  sphere. 

"  Come  at  last,  mother.    The  plot  thickens.    That 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  47 

thirty  dollars  was  the  best  investment  I  ever  made. 
Listen : 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 

Miss  MAUDE  JOHNSTONE:— My  Friend :— One  of  my 
bachelor  eccentricities  is  a  desire  to  know  every  good, 
generous  girl  in  the  country,  and  hence  I  wish  to 
see  you.  Recent  discoveries  cause  me  to  appreciate 
the  self-denying  sacrifice  you  made  in  sending  thirty 
dollars  to  the  Howard  Mission.  Allow  me  to  express 
my  appreciation  by  tendering  you  the  hospitalities  of 
my  home  during  the  coming  holidays.  In  fact  I  an- 
ticipate living  in  a  sort  of  earthly  paradise  in  so  much 
as  half  a  dozen  "  earth  angels  "  have  promised  to 
wing  their  way  hither.  Please  accept  this  enclosed 
pass  and  oblige, 

WARREN  HUNTINGTON. 

"  Heigh,  ho ;  is  n't  that  peaches  and  cream ;  rich,  and 
a  bachelor;  calls  us  angels.  I  wonder  if  an  angel  in 
these  modern  times  could  trouble  the  bacheloric  pool 
of  his  affections?  Mother,  I  guess  grandmother's 
pearls  must  be  sacrificed  now.  I  must  have  an  out- 
fit. Nothing  risked  ;  nothing  gained,  you  know." 

"That  is  about  all  that  is  left  to  be  risked.  I  did 
hope  to  keep  them;  but  you  must  have  an  out-fit." 
And  so  the  pearls  were  quietly  sold  to  a  lady  who  had 
often  attempted  to  purchase  them,  and  in  lieu  thereof, 
there  came  to  the  cottage  various  bundles  and  pack- 
ages, and  in  a  few  days  the  old  mirror  reflected  many 
piquant  tableaux.  Even  little  Miss  Quirk,  the  vil- 
lage dress-maker,  who  had  been  used  to  girls'  bare 


48  Out  of  Her  /Sphere. 

shoulders  and  arms  for  years;  even  she  grew  compli- 
mentary and  said,  meanwhile  letting  the  cold  scissors 
rest  on  Maude's  neck,  (but  what  would  n't  a  beauty, 
or  any  other  girl,  endure  for  the  sake  of  a  compli- 
ment?) "  Well.  I  've  seen  a  heap  o'  necks  and  arms 
in  my  time,  but  I  don't  think  I  ever  did  see  tsich  soft, 
white,  dimply  ones  as  your'n.  Why,  with  sich  arms 
as  them  about  his  neck  a  man  would  n't  hardly  care 
about  going  to  Heaven  ;  but,  law  me,  what  a  pity  'tis 
they  don't  last.  You  '11  be  as  large  as  your  mother  by 
the  time  you  're  as  old." 

By  this  time  the  cold  scissors  irritated  and  in  no 
gentle  voice  Miss  Quirk  was  requested  to  proceed  with 
her  work.  But  that  night  when  the  filmy  purple 
dress  was  finished,  and  Maude  tried  it  on,  the  deli- 
cate ruchings  rendering  whiter  still  those  matchless 
shoulders ;  when,  with  great  golden-hearted  pansies 
nestling  in  the  wavy  gold  of  her  hair,  and  with  the 
same  suggestive  blossoms  nestled  in  a  film  of  lace  that 
thrilled  with  every  heart-beat,  Maude  was  almost 
beautiful  enough  to  cause  a  man  to  forget  Heaven  and 
honor,  and  as  we  look  at  her  we  longed  to  whisper  in 
the  ear  of  the  good,  generous  Warren  Huntingtou, 
just  as  a  single  word— the  little  word— Beware ! 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  49 


CHAPTER    IX. 

PREPARATION. 

"  For  the  blessings  life  lends  us,  It  strictly  demands 
The  worth  of  their  full  usufruct  at  our  hands, 
And  the  value  of  all  things  exists,  not  indeed 
In  themselves,  but  man's  use  of  them  feeding  man's  need." 

"  Surely  a  '  beautiful  time '  is  in  store  for  me, 
mother;  only  listen  to  this  letter." 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 

Miss  MARJORY  WARNER:— A  little  bird  has 
whispered  to  me  some  very  pleasant  things  in  regard 
to  you,  and  I  have  a  real  desire  to  see  the  little  girl 
who  wore  calico  for  two  weeks  because  a  girl  guest 
had  nothing  better.  My  home  is  to  be  filled  with 
girls  during  the  holidays,  but  the  best  room  is 
reserved  for  you.  Do  not  disappoint  me. 

Your  grum,  old,  bachelor  friend, 
WARREN  HUNTINGTON. 

"Oh I  it  does  not  seem  possible;  only  think  of  it, 
mother,  the  Capitol,  the  marble  room,  the  bronze 
doors,  and,  oh !  the  Senate,  and  House, — but  it  seems 
almost  selfish  for  me  to  enjoy  so  much,  and  you  and 
brother  left  lonely  at  home." 

"  There  you  go,  Marjory,  I  was  just  a  wonderin'  how 
long  'twould  be  before  you'd  begin  to  mourn  'cause 

4: 


50  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

somebody  else  could  n't  go ;  but  what  are  you  going 
to  wear?" 

"Oh!  a  dress  I  suppose;  don't  begin  to  talk  about 
clotbes;  just  think  of  the  Capitol,  and  the  White 
House,  and  Arlington,  and  who  cares  for  clothes?" 

"  Who  cares  for  clothes  ?  Why,  everybody,  I  guess ; 
and  as  soon  as  you  get  over  your  crazy  spell  you'll 
care  too." 

Just  at  that  moment,  Marjory  was  almost  out  of  the 
body  with  delight,  but,  after  a  time,  she  descended  to 
the  practical  and  condescended  to  review  her  ward- 
robe with  her  mother ;  meanwhile,  bubbling  over  with 
fun,  and  poor  Mrs.  Warner  at  last  entreated  her  not  to 
be  as  funny  as  she  could. 

"  Here,  mother,  we  hav  n't  taken  an  inventory  of 
my  jewel  case,  yet  ?  "  The  jewel  case  was  represented 
by  a  blue  pasteboard  box,  and  the  jewels  consisted  of 
two  broken  ear-rings,  one  large  cameo  pin,  half  of  a 
gold  pencil,  the  ghost  of  a  necklace — principally  string, 
with  an  occasional  gold  bead — and  a  ring  with  a  corne- 
lian heart. 

"Oh!  'my  country,  these  are  my  jewels!'  and, 
mother,  tell  me,  which  of  all  these  must  be  sacri- 
ficed?" 

"  Madge  how  you  act— what  is  the  matter?  " 

"  Don't  you  remember,  I  tumbled  down  stairs  once, 
and,  in  consequence,  was  crazy  for  a  day  or  two  ?  I 
think  I  am  suffering  from  a  relapse," 

While  mother  and  daughter  were  merry-making 
over  their  treasures,  housekeeper  Jane  had  been 
struck  with  an  idea,  and  for  the  very  first  time  in  her 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  51 

life,  she  yielded  to  her  own  impulses,  and  attempted  to 
put  the  idea  into  execution.  Forgetting  her  coffee, 
which  was  even  then  commencing  to  burn,  she  don- 
ned her  gingham  sun-bonnet,  and  walked  over  to 
Senator  Browne's. 

Forty-five  summers  had  passed  since  Jane  first 
winked  at  the  world,  and  during  all  these  years  she 
had  pursued  her  journey  in  the  most  proper  manner, 
and  as  she  hurried  along,  every  neighbor  wondered 
what  had  happened  at  the  widow  Warner's. 

What  had  happened  ?  Marjory  had  received  an  in- 
vitation to  go  to  Washington,  and  Jane  had  let  the  coffee 
burn. 

Senator  Browne's  house  was  dreary,  and  desolate, 
and  dark.  But  a  few  months  had  passed  since  the  an- 
gel of  death  had  claimed  their  only  child,  and  the 
great  house  seemed  a  tomb.  The  sunshine  excluded, 
the  piano  locked,  and  the  mother  selfishly  indulging 
iu  the  luxury  of  grief,  forgetful  of  her  duty  to  the 
living. 

Into  this  gloom  and  quiet,  comes  housekeeper  Jane 
with  her  idea.  She  did  not  falter  or  hesitate,  but  with 
the  air  and  manner  of  one  who  is  thoroughly  pos- 
sessed with  her  subject,  she  thus  began :  "  Mrs. 
Browne,  when  your  daughter  died,  you  told  me,  if 
there  was  ever  anything  you  could  do  for  our  Marjory, 
to  let  you  know.  She  has  been  sent  for  to  go  to  Wash- 
ington, and  she  has  n't  any  thing  to  wear,  that's  all." 
And  ten  minutes  later,  Jane  stood  the  picture  of  de- 
spair, with  a  pan  of  burnt  coffee  in  her  hand. 

The  autumnal   day  was   deepening  into  twilight. 


52  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

That  perfect  day  which  had  come  to  Marjory  freighted 
not  only  with  a  wealth  of  beauty,  (it  was  nature's  car- 
nival of  color),  but  with  brilliant  anticipations  and  high 
hopes.  Now,  in  the  deepening  twilight,  with  weird 
shadows,  tracing  Rembrandtesque  groups  on-the  wall, 
mother  and  daughter  sat  side  by  side,  planning  and 
thinking,  and  at  last  Marjory's  voice  invaded  the 
silence. 

"Well,  I  like  pretty  clothes,  and  would  enjoy  them 
just  as  I  enjoy  flowers  and  shells,  and  clouds,  and  all 
beauty  of  form  or  color,  but  if  I  cannot  have  them,  I 
will  not  allow  myself  one  moment's  unhappiness 
because  of  it.  The  capitol  will  be  as  beautiful  and  the 
speeches  just  as  interesting  to  me,  in  my  black  lustre, 
as  they  would  if  my  robes  were  velvet.  The  only 
difference,  I  suppose,  will  be,  that  I  will  not  be  quite 
so  interesting  to  the  speakers.  But  do  n't  boys  have 
jolly  times?  Who  ever  asks  how  boys  are  dressed, 
aud,  by  the  way,  I  suppose  I  should  have  said  coated. 
We  ask  if  boys  are  intelligent,  which  means,  I 
suppose,  do  they  have  brains?  We  inquire  if  girls 
are  stylish  ?  which  means,  have  they  plenty  of  rib- 
bons, bonnets,  and  gloves  to  match.  Wax  figures 
are  stylish.  It  reminds  me  of  Gail  Hamilton's 
capital  hit.  Do  you  remember  it?  I  copied  it  into 
my  journal — 'Suppose  you  have  been  boarding  or 
visiting  for  a  month  or  two  in  a  stranger-family,  and 
some  one  asks  you  if  they  live  well,  what  do  you 
understand  him  to  mean  ?  Is  he  inquiring  if  they 
are  honorable,  if  they  conduct  their  lives  on  Christian 
principles,  if  they  are  courteous,  self-respectful  and 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  53 

self-controlled?  Are  they  just  in  their  dealings,  dis- 
interested in  their  motives,  pure  in  word  and  work? 
Nothing  is  further  from  his  thought.  He  means — and 
you  at  once  understand  him  to  mean — do  they  have 
highly  spiced  and  numerous  meats,  much  cake  and 
pie,  many  sauces  and  preserves  ?  To  what  degrada- 
tion have  we  descended  ?  To  live  well  is  to  eat  rich 
food.  Honor,  integrity,  refinement,  culture,  all 
chopped  up  into  mince  pie.' 

"  And  it  is  just  so  with  girls.  We  may  be  selfish, 
silly,  ignorant,  and  vain,  but  if  we  wear  good  clothes, 
they  make  it  all  right." 

';Be  careful,  Marjory,  don't  allow  yourself  to 
speak  bitterly.  Do  you  respect  a  girl  just  in  propor- 
tion to  the  dry  goods  she  wears  ?" 

Oh !  no,  of  course  I  do  n't,  because  I  have  a  dear, 
good,  sensible  mother,  who  has  taught  me  the  value 
of  truth  and  honor,  and  taught  me  to  respect  true 
womanliness  always,  whether  clothed  in  velvet  or 
calico." 

"  Then  don't  you  see,  dear,  that  you  indulged  in  a 
vain  speech?  Many  mothers  are  teaching  their 
daughters  these  same  ideas.  All  over  the  country  the 
precious  seed  is  being  scattered,  and  I  believe  the  girls 
of  to-day,  many  of  them,  will  develop  into  self- 
reliant,  true  women.  Charity  is  one  of  the  mo?t 
Christ-like  virtues,  and  I  hope  you  will  remember 
that  many  of  the  young  girls"  you  will  meet  in 
Washington,  have  lived  in  a  very  far  different 
atmosphere;  do  not  judge  them  too  harshly,  but  try 
to  discover  some  good  in  every  one.  But,  hark! 
some  one  rang  the  door-bell,  violently." 


54  <Jut  of  Her  Sphere. 

In  a  few  momenta,  the  shuffling,  heavy  tread  of  a 
man,  evidently  bearing  a  heavy  burden,  resounded 
through  the  hall;  the  door  opening  into  the  room 
where  Marjory  and  her  mother  were  sitting,  was 
thrown  open,  and  a  large  trunk  was  rolled  into  the 
room.  Senator  Browne's  colored  man  meanwhile 
beaming  with  satisfaction  as  he  tossed  into  Marjory's 
lap  a  key  and  a  letter. 

Her  face  flushed  scarlet  with  excitement  as  she 
hastily  opened  the  letter,  but  paled  with  feeling  as 
she  read  the  following  note : 

DEAR  MARJORY: — WQ  have  never  forgotten  your 
kindness  to  our  child,  our  Birdie,  and  have  endeavored 
to  think  of  some  way  in  which  we  could  evince  our 
gratitude.  The  opportunity  has  arrived,  and  we  ask 
you  to  accept  the  out-fit  which  was  prepared  for  her 
when  we  expected  to  go  to  the  mountains.  The 
clothes  were  never  worn,  and  I  do  hope  you  will  ac- 
cept them,  and  enjoy  them,  remembering  that  she  for 
whom  they  were  made,  would  not  return  to  us  if  she 
could. 

God  bless  you,  and  grant  you  all  the  happiness  you 

can  bear. 

MARY  BROWNE. 

"  Oh !  mother,  I  don't  believe  I  can  ever  wear  them. 
Poor  little  "Birdie;"  it  don't  seem  right ;  anyhow,  I 
wont  unlock  the  trunk  until  morning." 

11  Mrs.  Browne  requests  you  to  accept  them ;  and  as 
they  have  never  been  worn  by  Birdie,  I  see  no  reason 
why  you  should  not.  You  will  constantly  discover, 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  55 

my  dear  child,  that  the  world  is  not  entirely  selfish, 
and  I  hope  you  will  remember  that  this  kindness 
emanates  from  a  fashionable  friend.  It  is  just  as  I 
told  you,  truth  and  charity  may  be  discovered  every- 
where, if  so  be  it,  we  open  our  eyes  to  see,  and  our 
hearts  to  receive.  I  remember  a  few  weeks  since, 
attending  a  Sabbath-school  teacher's  meeting,  the 
lesson  was  the  parable  of  the  good  Samaritan,  and 
one  or  two,  good,  old  deacons  shook  their  heads  and 
said  we  were  growing  worse  and  worse  all  of  the 
time,  and  that  they  did  not  know  what  the  world 
was  coming  to.  Entirely  forgetting,  that  it  was  not 
allowable  for  a  woman  to  express  her  thoughts  in  the 
weekly  meeting,  although  she  could  teach  them  on 
the  Sabbath,  I  spoke  right  out,  as  you  say,  and  said : 
I  believe  the  world  is  coming  to  the  bright  light  of 
Christian  love,  and  charity ;  so  long  as  our  neighbors 
enjoy  the  use  of  the  same  powers  that  we  possess,  we 
recognize  their  power  of  self-protection,  but  if  a  neigh- 
bor loses  his  eyes  we  are  glad  to  read  to  him,  to 
guard  and  guide  him,  to  be  eyes  for  him.  If  he  is 
well,  we  recognize  his  power  and  right  to  care  for  him- 
self; so  soon  as  he  becomes  incapacitated,  we  gladly 
render  him  assistance.  It  is  a  reflection  upon  the 
wisdom  of  God's  government,  to  assert,  that  He  is  de- 
veloping only  evil ;  no,  the  years  have  wrought  out 
peace,  charity,  and  love,  as  any  one  may  discover  by 
comparing  the  history  of  ancient  civilizatian  with 
that  of  to-day  ;  and  when  the  great,  reserve  force  of 
woman's  morality  and  Christianity  is  taken  into  the 
councils  of  the  nation,  unto  what  heights  may  we  not 
attain?" 


56  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

"  Why,  mother,  I  am  surprised ;  I  did  not  know 
that  you  could  talk  so." 

"And  God  grant,  my  child,  that  you  may  not  be 
obliged  to  go  all  through  life  as  I  have  done,  with  a 
consciousness  of  unused  powers,  and  feeling  verily 
guilty  before  God,  because  of  the  talent  buried  in  the 
earth." 

"  What  a  pity  that  you  was  n't  a  boy  ?  " 

"No,  dear,  since  I  could  not  have  been  your 
mother." 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  57 


OHAPTEE    X. 

"ON  TO  WASHINGTON." 

"  What  if  with  her  sunny  hair 

And  smile  as  sunny  as  cold. 
She  meant  to  weave  me  a  snare, 
Cleopatra-like  as  of  old." 

"All  aboard,"  shouted  the  conductor,  and  as  the 
bell  rung  and  two  short  whistles  were  heard,  Maude 
Johnstone  rushed  on  to  the  platform,  sprang  into  the 
car  and  flushed  and  breathless,  bade  a  hurried  good-bye 
to  the  frightened,  nervous  little  woman, — her  mother 
— who  could  not  keep  back  the  tears,  when  she  saw 
her  darling  safely  on  the  train.  Maude  wore  a  stylish 
suit,  carried  a  new  sylish  satchel  (borrowed  from  the 
dress-maker,)  with  a  silver  cup  chained  to  the  out 
side ;  and  so,  two  young  gentlemen  (also  dressed  a  la 
mode  with  traveling  satchels  and  new  shawl  straps- 
runners  for  Field  &  Co.,)  speedily  arose  and  offered 
her  their  comfortable  seat,  which  Maude — Alas !— ac- 
cepted as  her  right ;  which  she  took  without  e'en  so 
much  as  a  thank  you  ;  thereby,  speedily  convincing 
every  one  who  had  observed  her,  that  she  was  not  a 
born  princess.  In  another  part  of  the  car  nestled  our 
friend,  Marjory  ;  dainty  as  a  wood-bird  in  her  suit  of 
brown,  with  a  little  bird's  nest  of  a  basket  resting  be- 
side her.  Something  in  her  face  told  of  recent  tears, 


58  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

because  the  cry  would  come  when  she  bade  mother 
good-bye  and  received  her  benediction.  However, 
the  pain  was  subsiding,  and  her  attention  had  been 
arrested  by  the  noisy  entree  of  Miss  Maude,  and  an 
indignant  well,  "She  is  no  lady,"  escaped  from  her 
lips  as  she  observed  the  lack  of  courtesy  referred  to. 
The  car  was  not  crowded  when  Marjory  entered,  and 
the  conductor  learning  from  her  mother  that  she  was 
commencing  a  long  journey,  had  given  her  two  seats. 
When  the  generous  gentlemen  started,  in  quest  of 
vacant  seats,  she  quietly  turned  the  one  opposite,  over, 
and  with  a  smile,  quietly  remarked,  "  I  am  always 
glad  to  return  courtesy  for  courtesy.''  Don't  you  be- 
gin to  see  that  she  is  destined  to  get  out  of  her  sphere  ? 

Somebody  else  was  in  that  car  —  a  fine  looking  gen- 
tleman in  grey ;  and  he  had  baen  an  interested  observer 
of  the  two  maidens — a  strange  expression,  a  shade  of 
disappointment  had  crossed  his  face,  when  Maude 
Johustone  was  before  the  foot-lights ;  but  now  a  satis- 
fied smile  beams  from  his  eyes  as  he  watches  our  little 
Marjory — not  very  little  either,  for  the  years  have  been 
busy  with  her,  and  to  strangers  she  seems  almost  a 
young  lady. 

Meanwhile,  the  train  rushes  on,  now  gliding  through 
the  darkened  hush  of  a  tunnel,  now  shivering  on  the 
brink  of  a  precipice,  then  coiling  through  meadow  and 
forest ;  then  with  a  shriek  darting  through  busy  streets 
and  unattractive  back-yards,  and  stopping  short  at  the 
depot.  At  one  of  the  little  stations,  a  weary  woman 
entered,  carrying  in  her  arms  a  pale-faced  baby,  while 
on  each  arm,  hung  a  heavy  basket.  Suddenly,  Miss 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  59 

Maude  sat  erect  in  the  end  of  the  seat  opposite  the 
window.  As  suddenly,  old  gentlemen  became  in- 
tensely interested  in  their  papers ;  the  young  gentle- 
men lost  in  observation  of  some  distant  object,  while 
Marjory  stowed  her  basket  away  and  said,  "  Will  you 
share  my  seat  ?"  at  which  the  weary  woman  looked 
a  "  God  bless  you ;"  and  the  gentleman  in  grey  smiled 
again. 

On  and  on  they  glided  until  just  as  the  moonlight 
yielded  to  that  wonderful  alchemist,  the  sun,  they 
crossed  the  river  and  for  the  first  time  our  heroines 
stood  upon  "  sacred  soil."  Ah,  the  memories  and 
anticipations  that  met  and  blended,  when  we,  for  the 
first  time,  breathed  the  atmosphere  of  the  "  Old 
Dominion."  Virginia  —  the  land  of  brave  men  and 
beautiful  women— the  Mecca  of  our  sorrowing  hearts, 
where  in  the  first  of  those  cruel  years  was  fought,  the 
then  terrible  skirmish  of  Romney.  As  we  journeyed 
rapidly  through  the  uncultivated  fields  and  gaunt,  old 
towns,  memory  discovered  other  and  more  war-like 
pictures,  painted  by  loyal  hands,  with  sometimes  a 
dash  of  sentiment,  such  as  one  we  this  moment  re- 
call :— 


"  Sitting  to-night  in  my  chamber, 

A  bachelor,  frigid  and  lonely ; 
I  kiss — the  end  of  my  pipe-stem  ; 
That,  and  that  only. 

Memories  rise  with  the  smoke- wreath  s  ; 
Memories  tender  surround  me ; 
Girls  that  are  absent  and  loved, 
Gather  about  me." 


60  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

Marjory  was  absorbed,  however,  t>y  the  present,  and 
her  artistic  soul  yielded  to  the  witchery  of  beauty. 
The  gentleman  in  grey  watched  her  soulful  eyes,  and 
when  they  began  the  ascent  of  the  mountains,  in  a 
very  fatherly  manner,  asked  her  if  she  would  like  to 
ride  on  the  platform  for  a  while?  Her  eyes  said 
"yes"  before  her  lips  could  syllable  it,  and  so  she 
followed  him,  holding  firmly  to  the  brake,  while  soul 
and  eyes  inhaled  the  scene.  It  was  a  wondrous  pan- 
orama; the  rugged,  scarred,  old  mountains,  green, 
fringed  with  laurel,  and  brownly  broidered  with 
fading  autumnal  leaves,  brightened  by  contrast  with 
little  flecks  of  snow,  while  the  sun-light  burnished 
the  Potomac's  tributaries  into  liquid  gold;  and  yet 
they  climb  the  mountains.  We  wonder  if  Marjory 
caught  the  invisible  chorus  of  those  mountain  echoes ; 
if,  to  her  ear,  there  sounded  an  anthem,  led  by  the 
nation's  Beloved,  re-asserting  that  governments  of  the 
people,  for  the  people,  shall  not  perish  from  the  face  of 
the  earth.  Something  must  have  whispered  to  her, 
that  this  was  consecrated  ground,  for  suddenly  amid 
the  roar  and  rush  of  the  train,  a  sweet  voice,  wedded 
to  music  the  words, 

"  My  country  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty, 

Of  thee  I  sing. 

Land  where  my  father's  died, 
Land  of  the  Pilgrim's  pride, 
From  every  mountain  side, 

Let  freedom  ring." 

Ah,  tell  me,  was  not  country,  native  land,  coun- 
try's honor,  and  her  flag,  as  dear  to  this  American 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  61 

girl  as  it  could  be  to  an  American  boy  ?  Sing  on  and 
work  on  little  maidens,  develop  your  powers,  culti- 
vate your  gifts,  for  in  the  swift  coming  future  your 
country  will  proudly  proclaim  you,  an  American 
citizen, 

Meanwhile,  Marjory  ceases  her  song  and  yields  to 
the  intoxication  of  the  scene.  Harper's  Ferry,  the 
ruins  of  the  arsenal,  and  the  veritable  house  from 
which,  to  the  music  of  the  Union,  John  Brown's  soul 
went  marching  on.  To  the  left  Maryland  Heights, 
then,  crossing  the  Potomac  one  catches  glimpses  of 
the  Shenandoah,  and  seems  almost  to  hear  the  echoes 
of  Lee's  bugles,  and  the  tramp  of  his  men.  Then,  on 
through  the  battle  field  of  Monocacy  where, 

"  Under  the  cod  and  the  dew,  waiting  the  judgment  day. 
Under  the  laurel,  the  "  blue  " — under  the  willow,  the  "  grey." 

Meanwhile,  the  daylight  has  yielded  to  moonlight, 
and  our  kind  friend  in  grey,  advises  her  to  take  a 
berth 'and  try  to  rest  a  little  ere  they  reach  the  city  of 
4t  magnificent  distances." 

Miss  Maude  is  weary  and  sleepy,  but  she  remem- 
bers her  "frizzes,"  and  the  old  adage  about  "first 
impressions,"  and  so  assures  the  conductor  as  it  will 
be  but  a  few  hours  ere  they  reach  Washington,  she 
will  sit  up. 

Alas,  poor  Maude,  you  have  already  produced  the 
first  impression,  for  the  elegant  gentleman  in  grey  is 
none  other  than  your  bachelor  host,  who,  by  some 
strange  fatality,  is  hastening  home  on  the  same  train 
with  yourself.  When  the  long  whistle  announces  the 


62  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

approach  to  Washington,  first  stopping  at  a  crossing, 
a  polite  black  man  springs  into  the  cars,  and  inquires 
of  the  conductor  if  there  are  any  ladies  on  his  train 
traveling  with  passes  signed  by  Warren  Huntington. 
The  conductor  designates  our  friends,  and  with  a  low 
bow,  "Jim"  presents  Warren  Huntington's  card  first 
to  Maude,  then  to  Marjory  saying,  "  Huntington 
called  away  on  business ;  have  to  go ;  told  me  to  fotch 
the  carriage,  and  tell  you  to  make  yourselves  to 
home — but,  lud  a  massy,  here  he  is,  sure  enough." 

"  Oh !  I  am  so  glad  you  are  the  one !"  exclaimed  our 
frank,  impulsive  Marjory. 

Maude  bowed  in  the  most  approved  style,  saying, 
"  I  am  happy  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Huntington,  but  I 
am  a  little  surprised  that  you  did  not  introduce  your- 
self; you  must  have  known  that  we  were  your 
proteges." 

"  You  must  remember  that  I  am  a  bashful,  modest, 
old  bachelor,  and  I  thought,  inasmuch  as  you  were 
to  suffer  from  my  eccentricities  for  some  time  to  come, 
I  would  not  disturb  you  to-day ;  and  then  I  wanted  to 
see  how  self-reliant  you  were,  &c." 

"Just  my  luck,"  thought  Maude,  "  I  would  have 
sat  by  that  old  woman  all  day  if  I  had  known  he  was 
on  the  train." 

Yes,  the  first  impression  Maude  had  made  was  not 
a  very  happy  one,  but  Warren  Huntington  was 
mortal,  and  Maude  Johnstone  was  beautiful,  and  her 
blue  eyes  sent  a  thrill  e'en  through  that  bacheloric 
heart,  and  when  they  entered  the  carriage,  he  seated 
himself  by  Maude. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  63 


CHAPTEE   XI. 

"  A  CHIME  OF  BELLES." 

"  Ring  out  the  old,  ring  in  the  new, 
Ring,  happy  bells,  across  the  snow— 
The  year  is  going,  let  him  go, 
Ring  out  the  false,  ring  in  the  true." 

Ring  in  with  all  that's  pure  and  good 

A  higher  type  of  womanhood. 

Christmas  eve  in  Washington — Christmas  eve  in 
Paris— Christmas  eve  in  palace  and  hovel ;  in  crowded 
cities  and  broad  prairies.  To-night,  the  civilized 
world  bows  down  with  gifts  of  gold,  frankincense  and 
myrrh.  On  this  festival  night,  the  pealing  bells  and 
chorus  of  childish  voices  ring  out,  and  sing  out  praises 
to  the  "Erst-time  babe  of  Bethlehem."  Merry 
Christmas  is  shouted,  whispered,  lisped,  and  chimed. 
Methinks  vivid  pen-pictures  of  Christmas  eve,  would 
startle  an  infidel  from  his  unbelief. 

In  quiet,  country  homes,  little  chrysalis  yeomen 
hang  their  home-made  stockings  by  the  wide-mouthed 
chimney,  and  on  Christmas  morning,  shout  and 
rejoice,  and  hold  as  high  carnival  over  their  sugar 
hearts  and  pop-corn,  as  do  the  richly  robed  children 
of  luxury  over  their  imported  toys  and  costly  bon- 
bons. The  homes  of  rich  and  poor,  alike,  are  haunted 


64:  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

by  little,  white  ghosts,  that  flit  from  chimney-corner 
to  trundle-bed,  with  eyes  that  will  come  "unbut- 
toned" like  little,  juvenile  Macawbers',  "  waiting  for 
something  to  turn  up." 

But  one  home  claims  our  especial  attention.  The 
household  of  Warren  Huntington  render  his  "  Villa 
Eden,"  the  Mecca  of  many  masculine  hearts.  Think 
of  it,  a  bachelor  surrounded  by  six  young  ladies. 
Six  representations  of  youth  and  beauty  flit  through 
these  elegant  apartments  this  Christmas  eve,  and 
among  them  we  recognize  three  friends.  Maude 
Johnstone  resembles  a  snow-drop  in  a  dainty  dress  of 
blue,  bordered  with  whitest,  softest  down.  Marjory, 
at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  her  friends,  has  taken 
from  that  gift-trunk  a  beautiful  white  merino, 
broidered  with  delicate  vines  and  scarlet  fuchsias, 
while  rich  clusters  of  the  same  flowers,  depend  from 
her  hair  and  nestle  at  her  throat.  Daisy  Wright  is 
here  also,  and  seems  a  veritable,  household  fairy  in  her 
dainty  drab  merino,  with  a  cunning,  little  pink-bowed 
apron  (a  present  from  Madge),  and  a  cluster  of  apple 
blossoms  in  her  hair,  so  natural  that,  as  Marjory 
remarked,  "you  could  almost  taste  the  apples." 
With  the  other  three,  a  regal  brunette  in  garnet,  and 
twin  sisters,  in  green,  our  story  has  no  connection, 
and  so  we  ask  their  pardon  for  apparent  neglect. 
These  maidens  had  been  at  work,  however,  and  the 
elegant  home  seemed  metamorphosed  into  a  bower  of 
beauty.  From  the  centre  of  the  arch  which  divided 
the  parlors,  depended  beautiful  baskets  overflowing 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  65 

with  bloom  and  fragrance,  while  above  it,  in  ever- 
green letters,  was  inscribed  : 

* 
"MERRY  CHRISTMAS  TO  OUR  HOST — " 

"W.  H." 

In  every  niche  nestled  flowers  and  vines  ;  love  and 
beauty  reigned  supreme  ;  and  if  this  home  was  typi- 
cal of  the  homes  of  the  land,  then,  indeed,  one  might 
assure  these  merry  maidens  that  "  their  duty  was  but 
to  be  fair,  and  their  souls  were  their  beauty."  But 
alas,  even  now,  poverty,  want,  and  starvation  are 
about  to  invade  this  Eden  of  plenty  and  luxury. 

Warren  Huntington  was  hurrying  through  the 
crowd,  when  an  old  friend  slapped  him  on  the  shoul- 
der, and  a  familiar  voice  said,  "  Christmas  gift,  old 
fellow;  take  time  to  say  that  to  an  old  friend,  won't 
you  ?  I  am  not  surprised  at  your  haste,  however  ;  if  I 
had  such  a  houseful  of  youth  and  beauty  as  I  under- 
stand you  have,  I  would  be  tempted  to  fly." 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Charley,  glad  to curse  such 

carelessness  ! "  and  in  a  moment  Warren  Huntington 
had  dragged  from  'neath  a  crowded  omnibus ;  not  a 
beautifully  dressed  little  one,  not  "  somebody's  dar- 
ling," but  a  poor,  little  vagrant  who  had  attempted 
the  street  crossing  without  the  protection  of  the 
police,  At  first,  there  was  a  ripple  of  excitement,  but 
so  soon  as  the  crowd  were  assured  that 't  was  only  a 
"little  sweep,"  the  ripple  became  less  apparent,  and 
our  bachelor  was  left  standing  on  the  side-walk  with 
the  little  insensible  waif  in  his  arms.  Motioning  to  a 
hackman,  he  bade  him  drive  to  the  nearest  hospital, 
5 


66  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

and  in  a  few  moments  the  best  medical  skill  of  the 
city  was  at  his  service. 

"  Will  she  die  ?" 

"  Oh  !  no,  she  is  only  stunned,  I  think." 

Slowly  the  large,  pleading  eyes  opened ;  a  feint  flush 
of  crimson  thrilled  through  the  brown  cheeks ;  then 
two  little  arms  twined  around  Mr.  Huntington's 
neck,  and  through  sobs  a  sweet  voice  wailed,  "  Oh  ! 
why  did  you  jump  for  me?  I  wanted  to  go  to 
mamma,  oh !  I  did  want  to  go  to  mamma !  " 

"Well,  you  shall  go,  little  one,  where  does  she 
live  ?  tell  me  where  your  mamma  lives?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  know,  she  lives  in  heaven  ;  up 
there  with  God ;  and  when  the  horses  kicked,  I  really 
thought  I  was  going." 

"  But  where  do  you  live  now  ?  where  is  your 
papa?" 

"  I  do  n't  live  at  all,  and  I  never  had  any  papa ;  no 
home  at  all." 

"Yes,  you  have  a  home,  little  one;  will  you  go 
with  me?" 

Quietly,  those  childish  eyes  surveyed  him,  then  the 
little,  mournful  face  beamed  with  a  beautiful,  trusting 
smile,  as  the  sweet  voice  queried, — 

"  Is  you  Santa  Glaus  ?  " 

Imagine  the  surprise  of  certain  gay,  young  widows 
and  fastidious  belles,  when  the  elegant  Warren  Hun- 
tington  stepped  into  a  street  car  with  this  strange 
bundle  in  his  arms. 

He  was  rich,  and  a  bachelor,  and  so,  alas!  the  little 
wanderer  became  the  objective  point  of  their  interest 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  67 

and  sympathy.  Not  because  of  her  poverty, — any 
one  of  those  gay  creatures  would  have  passed  her  with 
a  frown  had  she  stood  on  the  street  corner  and  asked 
them  for  a  penny — but  because  she  was  an  object  of 
interest  to  their  wealthy,  patrician  friend.  He  recog- 
nized this  fact,  and  received  their  expressions  of  sym- 
pathy in  dignified  silence. 

".Merry  Christmas !  merry  Christmas !  but  what  in 
the  world  have  you  there?  " 

"  Guess  ?  It  is  the  only  present  I  could  find  worthy 
of  your  acceptance." 

1  'Old  clothes?" 

"  No ;  a  real,  little  Christmas  child.  Who  claims 
it?" 

"  I  do ;  "  and  Marjory  reached  forward  and  took 
tenderly  into  her  arms  the  strange  bundle,  and  tears 
filled  her  eyes,  as  a  sweet  voice  warbled  out," 

"  Yes,  I  guess  I'm  your  Kissmus  child." 

Then  there  was  an  avalanche  of  questionings  and 
Sittings  to  and  fro,  until  the  child  sobbed  out,  "  Oh ! 
I  am  so  hungry !  " 

"So  hungry!"  Into  these  flower- wreathed  apart- 
ments, into  this  home  of  luxury,  had  drifted  a  little 
starving  child,  with  the  pleading  cry,  "so  hungry !  " 

Ah !  and  now  the  cry  comes  up  into  all  the  homes 
throughout  our  broad  land,  into  every  mother-heart, 
so  hungry.  Ye  women  who  wear  the  purple  ;  ye,  to 
whom  God  has  given  love,  protection,  and  home,  as 
ye  hope  to  receive  the  benediction,  "  Well  done,  good 
and  faithful  servant,"  turn  not  away  from  the  great 
army  of  toiling,  suffering  women,  who,  from  the 


681  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

depths  of  poverty  and  want,  send  up  the  sorrowing 
wail  "  so  hungry." 

Yet,  again,  reeling  through  our  streets,  out  from 
behind  the  screened  doors  of  our  fashionable  saloons, 
thence  through  desolated  homes,  down  to  drunkard's 
graves,  file  a  great  procession  of  our  beloved,  who 
wail  out,  "  mother,  help  me,"  we  are  so  hungry  for 
freedom.  American  women,  while  such  things  exist, 
will  you  not  with  influence,  voice,  pen,  and  the 
ballot,  assist  the  true  fathers  of  the  republic  in  their 
endeavors  to  save  its  sons? 

"So  hungry"  for  work;  "so  hungry"  for  educa- 
tion ;  "so  hungry  "  for  a  purer  legislation,  is  the  cry 
of  the  age  in  which  we  live.  Mothers  of  the  republic, 
when  your  sons  ask  for  bread,  will  you  give  them  a 
stone?  When  the  good  and  the  true  ask  for  co-oper- 
ation, sympathy,  and  assistance,  can  you  bestow  upon 
them  only  indifference,  prejudice,  and  that  selfish 
assertion,  you  have  all  the  rights  you  want  ? 

If  so,  then  in  the  swift,  coming  future,  shall  this 
grand  country  write  your  epitaph,  "  Mene>  mene,  tekel, 
upharsin." 

But  while  we  have  thus  digressed,  dinner  has  been 
announced,  and  the  little  hungry  waif  seated  beside 
Marjory,  on  a  high  chair  improvised  for  the  occasion. 
The  tears  would  come  as  they  watched  the  little, 
starving  child  eat  the  strengthening  soup.  The 
choicest  grapes  were  selected  for  her,  and  so  soon  as 
her  hunger  had  vanished,  looking  up  into  Marjory's 
face,  she  said,  "everybody  so  good  to  me— shall  me 
sing  for  you >s?" — and,  without  waiting  for  permission, 
she  warbled  out  the  little  ballad,  "Rose  of  Lucerne." 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  69 

A  yet  greater  surprise  was  in  store  for  them.  After 
dinner,  when  they  had  assembled  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  Maude  was  wooing  sweet  sounds  from  the 
Stein  way  grand,  our  little  waif  glided  from  Marjory's 
arms  and  requested  her  to  unbutton  her  dress.  She 
loosened  the  clumsy  fastenings,  when  out  stepped  the 
little  Christmas-child,  seeming  a  veritable  fairy  in 
her  dress  of  tinsel  and  white.  Then,  stooping  down, 
she  tugged  at  her  coarse  shoes  until  the  slippered  feet 
appeared,  and  then,  trilling  a  low,  weird  song,  she 
circled  around  the  room,  until  finally  exhausted,  she 
kissed  her  hand,  made  a  low  bow,  and  sprang  into 
Marjory's  arms. 

"You  little  sprite;  who  are  you,  and  where  did 
you  come  from?" 

"Well,  I  fink  I'll  tell  you.  Me  runned  'way  from 
the  theatre.  Oh  !  please  do  n't  send  me  back." 


70  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 


OHAPTEE   XII. 

SEEKING  A  PLACE  IN  THE  WORLD  OF  WORK. 

"  We  two  part ;  each  to  work  ont  Heaven's  will ;  yon,  I  trust, 
In  the  world's  ample  witness;  and  I  as  I  must 
In  secret  and  silence— you,  love,  fame  await— 

We  meet  at  one  gate 

When  all 's  over.    The  ways  they  are  many  and  wide, 
And  seldom  are  two  ways  the  same.    Side  by  side 
May  we  stand  at  the  same,  little  door  when  all 's  done, 
The  ways  they  are  many,  the  end  it  is  one. 
He  that  knocketh  ahull  enter  ;  who  asks  shall  obtain, 
And  who  seeketh,  he  findeth — " 

"Ah,  Miss  Marjory,  here  you  are;  I  thought  I 
would  find  you,  castle  building  in  the  moonlight." 

"  No,  not  building  castles  in  Spain,  but  admiring 
the  capitol.  How  beautiful  it  is  in  the  moonlight.  It 
may  be  unpardonable  ignorance  on  my  part,  but  I  did 
not  know  the  capitol  was  considered  so  grand  a  struc- 
ture until  to-day.  I  chanced  upon  a  speech  of  Charles 
Sumner,  upon  "Art,"  and  he  says  some  writers  rank 
it  fifth  among  the  buildings  of  the  world." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  certainly  is  very  beautiful ;  but  come, 
I  would  like  to  talk  with  you  in  regard  to  our  little 
4  Christmas  Child.'  Were  you  really  in  earnest,  when 
you  said  you  would  take  her  ?  If  so,  I  wish  you 
would  give  me  your  reasons,  for  I  assure  you  it  is  a  new 
phase  of  human  nature  to  me.  This  idea  of  a  young 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  71 

girl  in  the  first  bright  years  of  youth  and  beauty,  desir- 
ing to  adopt  a  little  girl.  Why  it  may  injure  your  pros- 
pects for  getting  a  husband,  materially.  In  this  ex- 
travagant age  it  requires  no  small  amount  of  bravery 
for  a  young  man  to  promise  to  support  one  person,  to 
say  nothing  of  two." 

If  Warren  Huntington  had  sometimes  thought 
Marjory  almost  too  void  of  spirit,  temper,  or  right- 
eous indignation,  he  soon  discovered  his  mistake. 
Her  soft,  brown  eyes  kindled ;  a  thrill  of  indignation 
crept  into  her  voice;  one  little  slippered  foot  went 
crushing  among  the  velvet  roses  as  she  replied, 

"Mr.  Huntington,  I  did  not  expect  to  hear  such  a 
speech  from  you  ;  but  I  guess  every  body  talks  so  ex- 
cepting my  own  dear  mother.  Just  think  of  it ;  think 
how  you  teach  us?  In  all  my  life  nobody  has  ever 
said,  '  be  pure  and  good,  noble  and  true,  because  it  is 
a  grand  thing  to  do,'  but,  '  because  men  will  like  you 
better.  Never  mind,  do  n't  fret  about  the  education ; 
your  chances  will  be  quite  as  good  if  you  do  n't  know 
so  much,'  said  the  old  ladies,  when  I  wanted  to  go  to 
college ;  and  now,  you,  when  I  want  to  take  this  poor, 
little,  homeless  child,  and  give  her  home,  happiness, 
and  love,  you  advise  me  not  to  take  her,  because, 
perhaps,  if  I  do,  some  man  won't  marry  me.  If  I  ever 
do  marry,  it  will  be  for  down  right  love  and  not  for 
the  sake  of  being  supported." 

This  was  an  entirely  new  phase  of  human  nature,  or 
girl-nature,  to  Warren  Huntington ;  and,  in  fact,  he 
rather  enjoyed  it,  and  in  order  to  provoke  further  re- 
mark he  continued  ;  "  Why,  Marjory,  you  surprise 


72  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

me  ;  where  did  you  get  these  ideas  ?  Come,  now,  be 
honest,  don't  you  believe  that  a  great  many  girls 
marry  just  for  the  sake  of  an  establishment,  and  a 
new  wardrobe?" 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  it  is  the  fault  of  their  education.  But 
I  do  n't  believe  they  are  much  worse  than  you  gentle- 
men, even  in  this  respect.  Do  n't  you  believe  some 
gentlemen  marry  for  the  sake  of  getting  a  good-look- 
ing housekeeper?  Yes,  and  hav'nt  you  known 
young  men  to  marry  for  the  sake  of  her  establish- 
ment? I've  heard  the  boys  talk  with  my  brother,  and 
when  they  were  speaking  about  some  new  girl  they 
would  ask,  ; Is  she  pretty? '  Answer — '  Well,  no,  not 
very.'  '  Accomplished? '  Oh  !  no,  not  much  of  that 
sort  of  thing,  but  then  I  tell  you,  the  old  man  has  got 
plenty  of  checks.'" 

"  '  Ah !  y-e-s,  only  daughter  too,  you  say  ?  Much 
obliged !  I  do  n't  care  if  I  do ! '  Ah,  Mr.  Huntington, 
you  need  not  abuse  the  poor  girls,  for,  after  all,  I 
doubt  if  they  have  very  much  the  advantage,  even  in 
this  respect.  If  you  would  only  give  girls  something 
to  do,  some  aim  in  life,  they  would  not  be  so  apt  to 
marry  for  a  home.  That  is  one  reason  why  I  want  to 
take  little  Christine.  They  say  I  cannot  go  to  school 
any  more,  and  so  I  must  have  something  to  do ;  I 
wo  n't  sit  idle  and  wait  for  a  husband.  In  fact,  I 
do  n't  want  a  husband  yet ;  I  have  a  great  deal  to 
learn,  because  school  or  no  school,  I  intend  to  be  a 
preacher  some  day.  I  wanted  to  teach  school,  but 
mother  and  brother  would  not  permit  it,  but  I  can 
teach  little  Christine,  and  then  she  will  be  company 
for  mother  when  I  go  away  to  preach." 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  73 

"  Heigh,  ho !  here  is  something  new  under  the  sun  ! 
A  preacher?  But  where  did  you  get  these  notions? 
since  you  have  been  here,  you've  been  merry  as  a 
cricket,  and  I  would  never  have  suspected  you  of  such 
thoughts." 

"Well,  I've  been  thinking  them  for  a  long  time, 
but,  somehow,  they  never  got  said  before ;  and  now, 
since  we  are  talking,  I  want  to  ask  you  about  some- 
thing else ;  my  brother,  my  only  brother,  who  is  in 
college  now,  has  a  real  genius  for  art,  but  thinks  he 
must  study  law,  in  order  to  make  more  money  for 
mother  and  I.  Now,  I  am  determined  to  save  him  for 
art,  and  can  you  tell  me  how  I  can  earn  some 
money?  ' 

"  This  appeal  produced  a  strange  effect  upon  Warren 
Huntington,  for  he  had  known  during  all  these  years 
what  it  was  to  go  through  life  with  a  consciousness  of 
unused  power ;  for  he,  in  his  early  boyhood,  gave  pro- 
mise of  genius,  and  so  he  did  not  laugh  or  sneer  at 
Marjory,  but  sat  there,  in  the  moonlight,  thinking, 
wondering,  and  thinking,  what  these,  willing,  girl- 
hands  could  find  to  do."  What  work  could  she  engage 
in  without  losing  caste  in  society?  Think  of  it 
Americans.  We  who  have  proclaimed  to  the  world 
that  in  America  labor  is  dignified,  and  the  honest 
workman  more  respected  than  the  rich  idler.  Think 
of  woman's  position,  and  see  and  know  that  the  work 
is  but  half  done.  Labor  is  dignified  for  man,  but 
woman  rises  in  the  social  scale  in  proportion  to  her 
idleness: — with  one  servant  she  ascends  one  round 
of  the  social  ladder ;  with  two,  another ;  and  when 


74  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

she  can  boast  of  a  retinue,  she  looks  serenely  down 
from  the  topmost  round.  If  this  young  girl  en- 
deavored to  work,  to  perform  honest  labor  in  order  to 
save  her  brother  for  art,  she  would  lose  caste.  If  he 
should  remain  idle  and  not  endeavor  to  assist  his 
mother  and  sister,  the  whole  world  would  deride. 
Is  there  not  something  false  about  our  civilization 
while  such  things  be  ? 

Think  of  it :  a  father  with  a  large  family  to  support, 
burdened  and  overtasked  with  business  cares,  finds  his 
strength  failing.  His  wife  who  has  excellent  business 
capacity  could  render  most  timely  and  needed  assist- 
ance. She  could  afford  to  hire  a  housekeeper  for  a 
time,  and  it  would  be  a  rest  and  change  for  her,  and 
really  lift  the  burden  from  his  shoulders.  She  would 
glory  in  so  doing ;  her  husband  knows  that  she  could 
assist  him ;  but  Mr.  Smith,  with  a  head  as  large  as  an 
apple,  or  Mr.  Jones,  who  always  says  "  have  saw," 
and  spells  Woman's  Bights  "  Wimmens'  Wrights," 
might  think  she  was  out  of  her  sphere ;  and  so  the 
weary  man  toils  on  for  a  short  time,  then  lies  down 
to  rest  in,  the  village  graveyard ;  and  then  the  widow, 
singly  and  alone,  must  go  out  of  her  sphere,  or  see  her 
children  starve. 

Ah !  men,  until  God  provides  all  women  with  "  nat- 
ural protectors  "  and  comfortable  homes,  your  advice 
to  them  to  remain  in  their  own  peculiar  sphere— the 
domestic— is  mockery.  These  women  ask  for  dread  and 
you  offer  them  a  stone,  then  wonder  that  they  are  not 
content. 

Some  such  thoughts  disturbed  Warren  Huntington, 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  75 

as  he  went,  in  imagination,  through  the  world  of  wo- 
man's work,  searching  for  something  for  Marjory  to 
do. 

"  Eureka !  I  have  found  it.  Everybody  tells  me  I 
write  a  good  business  hand.  Mr.  Huntington,  do  you 
think  you  can  get  me  some  copying  to  do?" 

"  Copying  ?  yes,  I  am  sure  I  can  ;  but,  Marjory,  you 
seem  to  have  some  original  ideas,  and  I  really  think 
that  if  you  will  cultivate  and  develop  your  powers 
you  may  become  a  writer." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  must  learn  to  write  before  I  can  preach ; 
but  here  comes  my  little  poem,  and  she  looks  sleepy. 
Come,  'Christine,'  kiss  'Santa  Glaus,'  and  then  we 
will  go  bye-bye." 

As  Marjory  danced  out  of  the  rooin'with  her  little 
'Christmas  Child'  in  her  arms,  our  bachelor  mur- 
mured, "  what  a  strange  mixture  of  love  and  intellect 
she  is — but  then  all  women  are  queer.  I  don't 
believe  we  men  half  understand  them  yet." 

Neither  do  we  understand  ourselves.  A  century 
hence,  when  we  have  secured  equality  of  education, 
equality  of  development,  the  right  to  exercise  our 
powers  in  matters  of  church,  society,  and  state,  then 
may  we  understand  the  latent  power  of  American 
womanhood.  Educate  girls  for  womanhood — not  wife- 
hood.  Educate  them  as  responsible  beings  before  the 
law,  human  and  divine;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
educate  American  men  to  admire  such  womanhood. 

If,  during  past  ages,  men  have  been  too  much  occu- 
pied with  their  flocks,  herds,  and  merchandise, 
to  devote  much  time  to  the  study  of  womanly 


76  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

characteristics ;  women  have  found  time  to  learn  their 
lesson,  and  have  accepted  the  old  truism,  that  "the 
proper  study  of  womankind  is  man ;"  and  we  know 
you,  pretty  well,  gentlemen.  Maude  Johnstone  had 
inherited  the  combined  wisdom  of  all  her  aunteces- 
tresses,  and  now.  as  Marjory  danced  out  of  the 
library,  Miss  Maude  glided  in.  In  appearance,  so 
beautiful,  so  meek  and  dependent, — so  womanly. 
Her  black  velvet  boddice,  open  almost  to  her  belt, 
with  just  a  film  of  illusion  shading  her  snowy  throat 
and  bosom  ;  her  long,  light  hair  rippling  and  waving 
over  her  shoulders ;  and  herself,  the  embodiment  of  all 
that  was  artfully  artless^  as,  in  a  childish  voice,  she 
said,  "  Mr.  Huntington,  unless  you  are  very  busy,  I 
would  like  to  talk  with  you  a  little.  I  want  some 
advice." 

"Never  more  entirely  at  leisure  in  my  life;  so, 
come  and  sit  down  beside  me,  and  tell  me  all  about  it. 
Has  that  young  McGregor  proposed,  and  you  want 
me  to  write  to  mother  for  you?" 

"  Nonsense !  Do  you  suppose  I  would  have  that 
stupid  fellow  ?  He  is  too  sanctimonious  for  me.  No 
indeed,  there  is  no  danger  of  my  losing  my  heart 
while  I  am  here — for  the  minute  you  walk  into  the 
room,  these  young  boys  seem  so  insignificant  that  I 
am  almost  tempted  to  say,  '  shoo-fly.' " 

Alas !  Mr.  Huntington,  was  mortal,  and  M  aude 
was  bewitching,  and  so  one  arm  went  around —  the 
top  of  the  sociable,  and  his  patrician  fingers  were 
caught  in  the  golden  meshes  of  her  hair. 

"  Now,  you  won't  laugh,  nor  think  me  silly  ?   but, 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  77 

you  know  I  hav'nt  any  father,  or  brother,  and  it  is 
so  hard  to  be  dependent,  but,  I  always  am  obliged  to 
have  some  one  advise  me.  Well,  you  know,  the 
property  dear  papa  left  us  is  almost  all  gone ;  mother 
has  always  been  used  to  living  well,  and  I  can  secure 
all  these  things  for  her,  if—  I  consent  to  keep  house  for 
a  certain  rich  widower,  who  is  silly  enough  to  want 
me  for  his  wife;  but,  I  am  afraid  I  do  n't  love  him. 
I  thought  I  did  before  I  came  here,  but  I  find  myself 
continually  comparing  his  queer,  rough  way,  with 
your  elegant,  courtly  manner,  until  I  almost  hate 
him  ;  now,  I  wanted  to  ask  you,  if  you  thought  I  could 
teach  myself  to  love  him,  for  mother's  sake?  " 

The  large  eyes  were  prophetic  of  tears — tears,  be- 
cause that  rich  widower  was  all  a  myth — the  soft, 
white  bosom  heaved  under  the  illusion,  and  Warren 
Huntington's  arm  twined  around  her,  and  he  whis- 
pered, my  advice  would  be  other  than  that.  I  would 
say,  darling,  teach  yourself  to  love  me !  " 

When  Maude  Johnstone  left  the  library,  she  was 
betrothed  to  Warren  Huntington. 

Artful!  deceitful!  do  you  say?  Softly,  softly; 
think,  before  you  speak,  lest  your  own  lips  condemn 
you.  She  is  the  legitimate  out-growth  of  the  teach- 
ings of  society.  Society,  which  teaches  girls  that  the 
supreme  business  of  their  lives,  is  to  marry,  and  yet, 
which  says,  at  your  peril,  let  any  one  discover  that 
you  seek  to  win  a  husband,  thereby  instilling  deceit- 
fulness  and  artfulness  into  pure,  young  hearts.  A 
young  girl  is  accused  of  loving  a  certain  boy  ;  she 
avers  that  she  does  not,  and  lies  when  she  says  so. 


78  Out  of  Her  SpJiere. 

Society  knows  she  has  told  a  lie,  and  yet  applauds  her 
for  tact,  modesty,  and  womanliness.  Suppose  you 
would  say  to  a  girl-friend,  "  I  believe  you  love  Harry 
White?"  and,  this  girl  would  answer,  "yes,  he  is 
pure,  and  good,  and  true;  he  is  worthy  of  being 
loved,  and  I  love  him  ;  I  intend  to  win  him  if  I  can." 
Your  mental  comment  would  be,  she  is  a  fool.  We 
act  as  though  pure  love  was  a  sin,  and  came  from  the 
evil  one,  when  we  know  that  it  glorifies  life,  and  had 
its  origin  in  the  bosom  of  God. 

Whoever  is  without  sin  among  you,  cast  the  first 
stone  at  Maude  Johnstone.  She  has  accomplished  her 
laudable  mission,  and  remained  in  her  sphere. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  79 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

"RESERVED  MORAL  FORCE  POWERLESS  TO  LEGISLATE." 

"  Once  the  welcome  light  has  broken, 

Who  shall  say 
What  the  unimagined  glories 

Of  the  day  ? 
What  the  evil  that  shall  perish 

In  its  ray  ? 

Aid  the  dawning,  tongue,  and  pen ; 
Aid  it  hope  of  honest  men ; 
Aid  it  paper,  aid  it  type ; 
Aid  it,  for  the  hour  is  ripe ; 
And  our  earnest  must  not  slacken 

Into  play. 
Men  of  thought,  and  men  of  action. 

Clear  the  way.;> 

"A  happy  New  Year,  girls;"  exclaimed  Marjory. 

"New  Year's  gift,  and  here's  something  to  put  it 
in  ; "  and,  blithe,  bonnie  May  Browning  danced  across 
the  room,  e'en  her  little,  white  feet  dimpling  with 
fun,  as  she  flitted  to  the  canopied  couch  where  Daisy 
and  Madge  were  sleeping,  presenting  an  exquisite 
jewel-box  as  a  receiver  for  her  invoked  gift. 

"  There  seems  nothing  left  for  me,  but  to  wish  you  a 
comfortable  Fourth  of  July,  and  a  vast  capacity  for 
Thanksgiving  day ;  and  also  to  request  you  to  rise  im- 
mediately arid  adorn  yourselves  for  the  day's  vanities. 
As  for  myself,  I  shall  confiscate  the  bay  window,  and 


80  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

observe  how  you  Bomans  do.  I  already  begin  to  en- 
joy a  realizing  sense  of  hollyhocks  and  marigolds, 
should  you  attempt  to  tie  me  up  in  your  exotic 
bouquet.  But,  then,  I  think  protracted  city  life  has 
rendered  your  lives  a  little  artificial ;  and,  perhaps  a 
little,  wholesome,  practical  country  air  will  benefit 
you.  At  least  you  can  shine  by  contrast." 

"  Daisy  Wright,  never  let  me  hear  you  compare 
yourself  to  hollyhocks  or  marigolds.  You  are  a  sweet, 
beautiful,  useful  branch  of  apple  blossoms ;  and,  as 
much  more  desirable  for  all  practical  purposes,  as 
luscious  fruit  is  to  delicate  exotk*s. " 

"  Apple  blossoms  always  remind  me  of  you,  Daisy, 
and,  I  bought  this  wreath  of  them  with  an  eye  to 
your  adornment.  But,  speaking  of  hollyhocks,  re- 
minds me  of  an  experience  I  had  last  year  with  an 
old  woman.  Now,  girls,  this  is  really  true ;  not  any 
of  my  imaginary  stories.  Several  of  us  school-girls 
went  out  walking,  and,  as  we  walked,  we  became 
thirsty,  and,  went  into  a  little  cabin  for  a  drink.  The 
old  lady,  whose  home  it  was,  was  very  talkative,  and, 
gave  us  a  slight  sketch  of  her  life.  She  said,  'Oh! 
girls,  I've  seen  heaps  'o  tronble  in  my  day  ;  but,  I  do 
wish  you  could  a  seen  my  old  man  when  he  was  in 
his  coffin  ;  his  forehead  was  as  smooth,  and  white  as 
chany ;  and,  then  he  had  on  a  doubled-ruffled  shirt, 
and  I  clear-starched  and  ironed  it  myself;  and,  them 
ruffles  just  stood  up  around  his  neck  till  he  looked  for 
all  the  world,  just  like  a  white  hollyhock." 

"Oh  !  May,  that  must  be  one  of  your  own  coining." 

"  No,  indeed !  It's,  'pon-honor,  true ;  but  what's 
the  trouble,  Maude,  slippers  too  small  ?" 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  81 

"  No,  they  're  a  perfect  fit ;  but  I  was  just  thinking 
that  the  two  things  I  love  best,  are  'olives'  and 
'  New- Year's  day.' " 

"  The  young  ladies  occupying  adjoining  rooms  were 
wide-a-wake  now,  and  ready  to  commence  their  pre- 
parations for  the  day's  festivities.  These  young  girls, 
standing  on  the  threshold  of  womanhood.  Life  with 
its  beautiful  realities,  its  grand  possibilities,  its  Chris- 
tian charities,  is  before  them.  They  are  destined  to 
wield  a  wondrous  influence.  Blithely  and  merrily 
they  flit  through  the  elegant  apartments,  donning 
dainty  slippers,  and  equisite  flutings,  and  ruffles, 
apparently  accepting  the  false  idea  that  woman's  duty 
is  but  to  be  fair.  And  yet,  in  two  hearts,  at  least, 
there  is  intense  desire  for  right  living  and  consecra- 
tion to  humanity  and  God.  Marjory  Warner  has 
commenced  the  day  with  a  prayer  for  guidance,  and 
the  request  that,  under  all  circumstances,  she  may  use 
her  influence  for  good. 

Leaving  the  young  ladies  at  the  toilette,  let  us  look 
into  a  cosy,  book-lined,  picture-hung  library,  of 
another  Washington  home.  In  this  room  is  a  hand- 
some woman  in  widow's  robes,  and  seated  near  her 
are  two  young  men  ;  the  one,  her  only  son,  the  other, 
our  erst-time  friend,  Winthrop  Wright,  who  has 
accepted  the  invitation  of  his  college  chum,  and  come 
to  Washington,  for  the  holidays,  and  is  e'en  now 
anticipating  his  sister's*  surprise,  and  wondering  what 
little,  saucy  Marjory  Warner  has  developed  into. 

"  Mother,  you  look  a  little  sad ;  what  is  the  trouble? 
Sorry  we  have  arrived  safely?" 
6 


82  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

"You  know  that  I  am  not,  Herbert;  but  I  am 
always  a  little  sad  on  New- Year's  morning,  and  while 
waiting  for  you  to  come  down,  I  have  been  wandering 
in  imagination  through  the  homes  of  the  country, 
and  wishing,  until  the  wish  has  become  a  pain,  that  I 
could  banish  from  every  side-board  and  table,  every 
form  and  drop  of  liquor.  Wine  in  the  hands  of 
women,  is  a  terrible  temptation  to  young  men  ;  and 
so,  my  boys,  on  this  first  morning  of  the  year,  I  do 
pray  '  our  Father,'  that  he  will  keep  you  from  the 
evil." 

"  Thank  you,  mother,  I  need  your  prayers.  New- 
Year's  day  is  one  of  peculiar  trial  to  me,  for  often- 
times a  young  man  is  placed  in  a  position  when  it 
seems  actually  impolite  to  refuse  a  glass  of  wine." 

"  Better  be  called  impolite,  than  to  be  stigmatized 
as  a  drunkard."  This  mother  remembers  that  on  her 
bridal  morn,  the  young  man  who  stood  by  her  side 
at  the  altar,  was  so  like  his  son  to-day.  She  thinks  of 
him  now  sleeping  in  a  drunkard's  grave,  and  with  a 
thrill  of  fear  haunting  her  voice,  says,  "but  my  son, 
you  have  not  a  taste  for  liquor,  have  you?" 

"  Not  an  acquired  taste,  but  an  inherited  one,  I  fear. 
I  feel  that  if  I  should  yield  once,  I  would  become  a 
drunkard  in  spite  of  myself,  of  reason,  and  you. 
I  do  not  believe  young  women  realize  at  all,  the 
influence  they  have  over  us,  and  what  circean 
tempters  they  are." 

"  Evince  your  preference  then,  my  son,  for  tem- 
perance girls,  and  thus  influence  them.  God  bless 
you !  a  happy  New- Year !  and  sufficient  manliness, 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  83 

to  say  no,  to  a  woman ;  and,  remember,  that  your 
mother  trusts  you." 


Our  girl  friends  have  descended  to  the  parlor  and  an- 
nounce themselves  ready  to  receive.  The  sunlight  is 
excluded,  while  little  jets  of  gas  escape  from  baskets 
ot  bronze  lilies ;  flowers  nestle  in  mossy  baskets ;  trail- 
ing vines  remind  us  of  summer's  wealth  of  greenery, 
and  the  very  atmosphere  is  laden  with  fragrance.  The 
Christmas  decorations  still  remain,  and  underneath  the 
evergreen  arch,  clusters  our  girl  bouquet. 

Helena  Moreton,  the  brunette,  seems  a  veritable 
pansy  in  her  yellow  satin  robe,  with  its  broideries  of 
black  lace,  while  great  purple  and  gold,  heart's-ease 
nestle  in  the  dark  braids  and  curls.  Daisy  wears,  filmy 
white,  and  wreath  of  apple-blossoms. 

Merry  May  Browning,  wears  roses  in  her  cheeks 
and  hair,  and  a  robe  of  the  same  rosy  hue. 

Maude  Johnstone  is  superb,  in  her  garnet  satin, 
with  wreath  and  corsage  of  brilliant  autumn  leaves, 
(presented  by  Warren  Huntington,  who  is  as  proud 
of  Maude's  beauty  as  he  is  of  his  horse;)  and  who 
looks  a  sybil  as  she  touches  Marjory  Warner's  shoul- 
ders with  her  jeweled  fan,  saying,  "Come,  now, 
make  a  New  Year's  wish,  and  see  if  I  do  not  secure  it 
for  you?" 

"  You  seem  a  witch,  and  are  bewitching,  Maude, 
but  I  fear  that  not  e'en  you  could  secure  my  desire." 

"  You  have  not  faith  enough.  What  is  the  coveted 
object  ?" 


84  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

*'  If,  at  this  moment,  some  fairy  would  confront  me, 
and  tell  me  to  make  one  wish,  and  it  would  be  grant- 
ed, I  would  ask  for  the  power  to  discover  to  the  young 
girls  of  the  country,  the  ruin  they  will  effect  in  the  name 
of  hospitality,  to-day  /"—and  Madge  pointed  to  the 
reception  room,  where  sparkling  wines  glittered  in 
costly  decanters. 

"  Oh  !  I  see  beautiful  women,  bewitchingly  dressed 
and  adorned,  winning,  and  wooing  some  easily  tempt- 
ed ones,  to  the  destruction  of  drunkeness.  Women, 
too,  who  will  have  no  excuse,  no  sympathy  for  the 
drunkards  they  have  made.  God  forgive  the  women 
who  will  to-day  pledge  heartache  and  sorrow  to  wife 
and  mother,  when  they  drink  a  '  Happy  New  Year,' 
to  somebody's  darling !  " 

"  Why,  Madge,  you  annoy  me ;  the  idea  of  a  New 
Year's  reception  without  wine.  I  am  glad  Mr.  Hun- 
tington  did  not  hear  you.  If  a  man  has  not  sense 
enough  to  know  when  he  has  taken  enough,  he  de- 
serves to  be  taken  home  drunk !  that  is  all  I  can  say 
for  him.  But,  Marjory,  you  surprise  me — you  do  in- 
deed—I thought  you  were  amiability  itself,  and,  it 
seems  you  do  know  how  to  become  indignant,  and 
'storm,'  just  like  us  common  mortals." 

"Righteous  indignation  is  allowable,  I  believe. 
You  could  understand  my  feelings  better,  perhaps,  if 
you  had  an  idolized  brother  exposed  to  these  tempta- 
tions. If  you  could  have  witnessed  ray.  mother's 
agony,  and  experienced  my  own,  when,  on  last  New 
Year's  night,  my  only  brother  was  brought  home,  not 
dead,  but  what  seemed  worse  to  us,  dead  drunk; 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  85 

tempted  by  women,  who  accused  him  of  rudeness 
when  he  asked  to  be  excused  from  pledging  their 
health  in  wine.  You  claim  that  a  man  of  sense  will 
know  when  he  has  taken  enough.  I  must  remind 
you,  that  on  New  Year's  day  we  intoxicate  men's 
senses.  Everything  is  changed.  We  exclude  the 
sunshine  and  substitute  artificial  light ;  everything 
that  beauty,  art,  wit,  and  e'en  music  can  effect,  is  used 
to  charm  the  senses.  Here,  in  this  very  room,  per- 
meated by  the  intoxicating  perfume  of  rare  flowers, 
radiated  by  the  presence  of  beautiful  women,  do  you 
not  seem  to  lose  all  sense  of  personal  responsibility, 
and,  does  not  life  resolve  itself  into  a  dream  of  pleas- 
ure? To  these  accessories,  add  woman's  influence 
over  man,  and,  then  be  not  surprised  that  in  such  an 
atmosphere,  with  such  surroundings,  they  meekly  do 
your  bidding.  Oh !  though  you  pledge  your  hospi- 
tality in  wine  during  all  the  other  days  of  the  year,  I 
beg  you  banish  it  from  the  first." 

"  Madge,  I  do  hope  that  you  will  not  refuse  to  drink 
with  our  friends  to-day.  It  looks  so  silly,  so  prudish — 
so— so  countryfied." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disoblige  you,  and  yet  I  cannot  do 
it.  I  claim  that  any  woman  who  drinks  wine  with  a 
gentleman,  forfeits  all  right  to  protest  against  his 
drinking  with  his  gentlemen  friends ;  nay,  more,  to 
frown  upon  him  if  he  becomes  a  drunkard." 

"  Ah,  you  believe  in  the  old  story — the  one  preached 
to  us  ever  since  Eve  ate  the  apple— that  we  poor 
women  are  to  blame  for  all  of  man's  wickedness.  If 
I  drink  wine  with  a  gentleman,  and  never  become 


86  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

intoxicated,  and  he  goes  away  and  becomes  a  drunk- 
ard, I  am  to  blame,  and  he  is  not.  Is  that  your 
creed?" 

"  No,  not  at  all.  Of  course  the  man  commits  the 
greater  crime,  but  you  have  no  right  to  cast  a  stone 
at  him.  Men  are  governed  by  the  opinions  of  women 
to  a  great  extent.  So  long  as  drunkards  can  have 
access  to  the  society  of  pure  women,  just  so  long  do 
we  make  drinking  respectable.  Women  are  governed 
by  the  opinions  of  men.  Men  shrink  in  horror  from 
a  drunken  woman,  and  but  few  women  drink." 

"  But  I  thought  you  desired  to  vote  because  you 
think  women  more  moral  than  men,  and  now  you 
attribute  the  vice  of  the  world  to  them." 

"  Our  women  do  constitute  the  most  powerful 
temperance  party  in  the  world,  but  so  long  as  one 
woman  or  girl  countenances  drinking,  there  will  be 
room  for  reform.  But  I  see  that  callers  are  entering. 
If  I  have  said  anything  harshly,  forgive  me  for  the 
sake  of  earnestness," 


Out  of  Her  Spliere.  87 


OHAPTEK   XIV. 

MOTHERS,  TO  THE  RESCUE ! 

"  Lo  a  cloud  about  to  vanish 

From  the  day ; 
Lo  the  right 's  about  to  conquer 

Clear  the  way ! 
A  brazen  wrong  to  crumble 

Into  clay. 

With  that  right  shall  many  more 
Enter  smiling  at  the  door ; 
With  the  giant  wrong  shall  fall, 
Many  others,  great  and  small, 
That  for  ages  long  have  held  us 

For  their  prey." 

The  first  day  of  the  new  year  has  passed  ;  twilight 
deepens  into  starlight,  and  yet  the  goddess  of  hospi- 
tality retains  her  throne.  We  discover  our  girl-friends 
in  the  midst  of  a  brilliant  scene ;  music  lends  its  witch- 
ery to  the  occasion,  and  the  festivities  of  the  day  are 
to  be  consummated  in  dancing.  Notice,  carefully,  the 
young  men.  Merely  an  occasional  glass  throughout 
the  day,  but  e'en  that  has  affected  reason  and  manner. 
Young  men  who  boasted  of  rare  gentlemanliness  and 
courtesy,  are,  to-night,  rude,  silly  and,  impudent, 
and  fair  women  shrink  in  disgust  from  their  weak 
devotees ;  victims  of  their  own  charms. 

E'en  Miss  Maude  becomes  pale  with  indignation, 
when  a  silly,  half  intoxicated  man  claims  her  hand 


88  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

fora  quadrille;  and  draws  back  indignantly,  when, 
placing  his  arm  around  her  waist,  he  attempts  to  whirl 
her  across  the  floor. 

A  friend  interferes,  saying,  "Charley,  you  had  bet- 
ter excuse  yourself:  you  are  drunk,  my  boy." 

"  Drunk— drunk,  hey?  Who  says  I'm  drunk? 
Well,  s-spoin'  I  am,  who  made  me  so— why  you,  my 
beauty,  so  come  and  help  me  dance  it  off?" 

The  friend  again  interfered,  when,  suddenly,  a  swift, 
sharp  report  clanged  through  the  brilliant  saloon. 
The  friend,  who  had  interfered,  staggered,  and 
fell,  blood  streamed  from  his  side,  women  shrieked 
and  fainted,  and  when  people  read  the  morning  pa- 
pers, the  patrician  readers  exclaimed,  "terrible!" 
"horrible!"  Why?  because  a  drunken  man  had 
almost  committed  a  murder  ?  Ah  !  no ;  because  the 
shot  was  fired  by  a  gentleman;  one  of  "  our  set,"  in  a 
patrician  residence,  in  the  presence  of  women.  The 
same  thing  occurs  daily  in  club-rooms  and  coffee 
houses— in  dark  alleys  and  hovels— and  the  respectable 
portion  of  the  community  pass  by,  on  the  other 
side,  and  makes  no  sign. 

Ah !  would  to  God  all  women  might  look  once 
upon  such  a  scene.  Let  the  blood  flow  until  a  spot 
shall  appear  upon  every  fair  tempter's  robe,  so  that 
the  mothers  of  our  country  may  know  into  whose 
keeping  they  entrust  their  sons.  Ah!  that  each 
American  maiden  might  be  consecrated  to  purity; 
and,  in  her  own  peculiar  life-work,  exert  purest  in- 
fluence, and  thus,  each  day  move  on,  towards  angel- 
hood. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  89 

Marjory  Warner  did  not  witness  the  painful  scene 
described ;  annoyed  by,  and  disgusted  with  the  silli- 
ness and  rudeness  of  the  young  men,  she  had  escaped 
to  the  conservatory,  where,  amid  beauty  and  fra- 
grance, she  thought  and  wondered  how  woman  could 
restore  to  the  world  its  lost  Eden.  Here  she  was  dis- 
covered by  Winthrop  Wright,  who  had  been  sent  in 
quest  of  her ;  and,  ere  he  told  her  of  the  sad  termina- 
tion of  the  day's  festivities,  he  queried :  "  Why  have 
you  deserted  your  friends  in  this  manner,  Mademoi- 
selle Truant  ?" 

"  You  remember  that  my  life  has  been  passed  in  a 
quiet  little  village.  To-day,  I  have  looked  for  the 
first  time  upon  fashionable  excess.  One  year  ago,  my 
most  gifted,  brilliant  friend,  took  his  own  life ;  choos- 
sng  to  go  to  God  rather  than  to  live  and  battle  against 
his  inherited  appetite  for  liquor.  We  know  that 
everywhere  our  brave  and  best  are  being  sacrificed  to 
this  remorseless,  blood-red  Moloch !  and  it  grieves 
and  pains  me  to  know  that  there  are  girls  and  women 
who  encourage  the  dreadful,  horrid  evil.  We  may 
have  temperance  laws  forever,  and  we  will  have  them 
when  women  can  legislate,  but  above  all  legislation 
we  must  have  a  social  law — a  law  that  will  call  it  per- 
jury for  a  pure  woman  to  go  to  the  altar,  and  before 
God  and  His  witnesses  promise  to  love,  honor,  and  obey 
a  drunkard.  I  have  never  been  accused  of  prudery,  but 
it  seems  sacrilegious — perfect  profanation — for  those 
silly,  drunken,  red-eyed  men  up  stairs,  to  clasp  pure 
girls  in  their  arms  as  they  do  in  the  waltz, — not  that 
I  think  dancing  is  wrong— but,  that  I  would  have 


90  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

every  young  man  in  this  nation  thoroughly  convinced 
that  impure  hands  could  not  touch  pure  maidens." 

"  And,  my  friend,  you  are  right ;  just  such  earnest, 
fearless,  young  women  as  yourself,  are  needed  all 
over  the  country,  and  I  have  come  to  you  now  to 
thank  you,  to  speak  one  earnest,  '  God  bless  you ! ' 
and  to  put  my  heart  into  the  sentence,  for  your  timely 
warning  this  morning.  But  for  you,  I  might  have 
sacrificed  sense  and  reason  at  the  shrine  of  wit  and 
beauty  to-day.  A  fearful  occurrence  has  transpired 
up  stairs.  A  young  man,  who,  this  very  morning, 
assured  me  that  any  man  was  a  fool  who  did  not 
know  when  he  had  taken  enough,  has  shot  one  of  his 
best  friends.  Mr.  Huntington  sent  me  for  you,  in 
order  that  you  might  quiet  the  terrified  girls.  And 
now  ere  we  go,  accept  as  a  New  Year's  gift  my  solemn 
pledge  of  total  abstinence  through  life !  But  for  you, 
I  might  have  ended  the  day  in  a  drunken  row." 

Many  maidens  that  New  Year's  night  rejoiced  over 
costly  gifts,  but  no  one,  I  ween,  was  happier  than 
Marjory,  with  Winthrop  Wright's  "  God  bless  you !  " 
singing  through  her  soul. 

When,  entering  her  own  room,  she  found  her  little 
Christine  sitting  up  in  bed,  pale  and  trembling,  and, 
who  sobbed  out,  "Oh!  little  mamma,  somebody 
screamed  so ;  scared  oo'  little  girl  so  bad." 

"  Hush,  darling,  do  n't  be  frightened,  little  mamma 
will  stay  with  you." 

Aye,  and  in  this,  also,  our  Marjory  is  typical  of  the 
spirit  of  the  age  in  which  we  live.  Out  from  happy 
homes,  out  from  selfishness  and  thoughtlessness,  come 


Out  of  Her  Sphere  91 

a  great  army  of  little  women,  mere  girls,  ofttimes, 
joining  the  list  of  workers;  and  these  women,  these 
wives,  mothers,  and  maidens,  assure  the  suffering, 
the  tempted,  the  overcome,  that  they  will  help  them 
and  uplift  them. 

Sweet,  womanly  voices  proclaim  to  the  timid,  weak, 
and  sorrowing,  to  all  of  God's  suffering  children, 
"don't  be  frightened,  darlings,  little  mother  is  com- 
ing to  help  you." 


92  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 


CHAPTEE   XT. 

"  THE  SPHERE  OF  A  CIRCLE." 

"  Is  It  true,"  asked  a  lady  aggressively  fat, 
Who,  fierce  as  a  female  Leviathan,  sat 
By  another  that  look'd  like  a  needle,  all  steel 
And  tenuity. 

The  needle  seemed  jerked  by  a  virulent  twitch, 
As  tho'  it  were  bent  upon  driving  a  stitch 
Thro'  somebody'' s  character. 

Mrs.  Larkin's  sewing  society  was  a  success.  In  the 
first  place,  Mrs.  Larkins  had  just  moved  into  a  new 
house,  and  the  ladies  had  a  sociable  time  discussing 
the  cost,  texture,  and  quality  of  the  new  furniture ; 
and,  in  the  second  place,  there  was  a  topic.  Some- 
thing new  under  the  sun,  and  this  time  it  was  neither 
silk  quilts,  rag  carpets,  or  sweet  pickle— it  was 
Marjory  Warner.  These  women,  many  of  them, 
good,  Christian  women,  members  of  the  same  church 
with  Marjory,  would  have  recoiled  in  horror  from  the 
thought  of  stealing  a  five-cent  piece ;  and,  yet,  with 
tongues  oiled  for  the  occasion,  they  proceed  to  steal 
a  young  girl's  entire  fortune — all  that  makes  life  well 
worth  living  out — her  character — her  pure  name. 
Mrs.  Jones  placed  her  chair  very  near  Mrs.  Smith, 
and  utterly  ignoring  the  weather,  at  once  put  the 
question:  "Well,  what  do  you  think  about  Madge 


Out  of  Her  /Sphere.  93 

Warner  ?  Of  course  you  've  heard  that  she  intends 
to  deliver  a  lecture?" 

"  Well,  I  must  say,  I  've  always  liked  Marjory. 
She  is  right  good-hearted,  but  it 's  a  great  pity  she  is 
so  ambitious;  but  then  I  think  her  mother  is  partly 
to  blame — I  am  really  sorry  ior  the  girl.  Its  a  great 
pity  that  she  will  make  such  a  fool  of  herself." 

"  Well,  you  may  just  be  mealy-mouthed  about  it,  if 
you  want  to,  but  I  think  when  a  girl  starts  out  to  do 
a  man's  work,  she  ought  to  be  treated  like  a  man,  and 
I  think  these  women's-rights'  folks  get  better  than 
they  deserve.  They  're  a  set  that  my  daughter  should 
not  go  with— free-lovers,  every  one  of  them.  I  've 
always  been  a  little  afraid  Madge  would  go  wrong ; 
she  is  so  independent-like.  I  reckon,  the  young  men 
wont  admire  her  so  much  now."  The  black  eyes 
gleamed  with  not  exactly  a  Christian  expression,  and 
Mrs.  Jones  looked  at  Mrs.  Moore,  and  she  touched 
Mrs.  Martin's  foot,  and  they  all  looked  wise— for  the 
speaker  had  been  something  of  a  free-lover  in  her 
youth,  and  was  now  the  anxious  mother  of  four  mar- 
riageable daughters. 

u  Well,  for  my  part,  I  do  n't  know  what  the  world  's 
coming  to.  I  think  Marjory  had  better  stay  at  home, 
and  help  her  mother.  They  say  she  do  n't  know  how 
to  sew,  at  all ;  now,  I  say  that 's  a  disgrace." 

"  Little  Mrs.  Moreton  had  not  sufficient  moral 
courage  to  say  anything,  although  Marjory  had  hem- 
med the  very  ruffles  which  adorned  her  dress." 

Ah  !  Vanity  Fair— vanity  fair ;  ah,  prejudice,  igno- 
rance and  blindness.  These  women,  Christian  women, 


94  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

who  deemed  Marjory  good  enough  to  teach  in  their 
Sabbath-school ;  who  had  known  her  from  baby- 
hood ;  known  her  to  be  conscientious  and  true,  and 
yet,  now,  because  she  had  taken  one  step  out  of  her 
sphere,  no  one  had  e'en  one  kindly  word  for  her ;  and 
yet,  when  this  same  girl  had  accepted  an  invitation 
to  address  a  girl's  society,  they  were  the  first  to  en- 
'  courage ;  but  now  she,  who  was  to  deliver  a  "  pay  lec- 
ture," and  so  earn  money,  was  unwomanly,  immodest, 
and  masculine.  Mrs.  Jones'  daughter  was  to  sing  in  a 
concert,  next  week ;  Mrs.  Moreton's  daughter  was 
to  represent  the  Goddess  of  Liberty,  in  a  political 
procession,  and  these  mothers  were  proud  of  it.  But, 
Marjory  Warner  was  to  read  a  lecture ;  and,  worse 
still,  "people  must  pay  to  get  in." 

"  Ah,  here  comes  Miss  Maude  Johnstone.  Is  n't 
she  a  stylish  girl?  Have  you  noticed  the  diamond 
ring  she  wears  ?  A  present  from  the  gentleman  she  is 
engaged  to.  People  say  she  is  going  to  do  well.  He 
is  rich,  they  say.  Welt,  she  has  been  poor  all  her  life, 
I  do  n't  wonder  she  wanted  to  secure  an  establishment. 
I  guess  she  is  pretty  cute,  notwithstanding  she  looks 
so  innocent." 

Ah,  yes;  custom  has  made  it  possible  for  a 
woman  to  sell  body  and  soul  for  a  home — for  money — 
and  yet,  be  considered  pure.  But,  above  all  custom, 
all  usage,  all  assurances  of  society,  we  hear  the 
message  from  God,  spoken.by  Christ  on  the  mountain, 
"  blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see 
God."  The  world,  that  little  village-world,  applauds 
Maude  Johnstone's  cunning,  and  shrinks  from 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  95 

Marjory  Warner's  truth.  The  one  wears  on  her  soft, 
white  hand,  a  jeweled  seal  of  love,  and  reigns  a  queen 
in  society.  The  other,  in  the  quiet  of  her  own  moon- 
lighted room,  kneels  by  the  Little  Sleeper,  whom  she 
has  rescued  from  starvatian  and  crime,  and  prays, 
"  Oh !  Father,  for  the  sake  of  these  little  ones  of  thine ; 
for  the  sake  of  the  toiling  and  suffering,  help  me, 
give  me  strength  and  courage  to  speak  the  truth.  My 
prayer  to-night,  is  simply  this,  "  Father,  guide,  for 
Jesus'  sake." 

While  frolic  and  fun,  and  gossip,  reigned  supreme 
at  the  sewing  society;  when  the  excitement  was 
greatest  among  the  young  people  in  regard  to  our 
friend,  Winthrop  Wright  and  his  friend,  Frank 
Hastings,  entered  the  room.  Winthrop's  three  years 
at  Ann  Arbor  had  developed  in  him,  grace,  as  well  as 
thought ;  and  he  and  his  college  friend— home  for  their 
senior  vacation — were  the  lions  of  the  hour. 

"Good  evening,  gentlemen,  you  are  just  in  time  to 
defend  a  friend.  Everybody  seems  disposed  to  criti- 
cise Marjory  Warner,  this  evening." 

"  It  is  seldom  our  young  people  select  so  good  and 
pure  a  subject,"  replied  Winthrop,  with  an  air  that 
convinced  the  young  ladies  that  a  friend  of  Marjory's 
had  arrived. 

"  Well,  really,  Mr.  Wright,  you  surprise  me.  You 
do  n't  believe  in  woman's  rights,  do  you  ?" 

"  Well,  Miss  Susie,  iu-so-much  as  my  mother  was  a 
woman,  I  think  I  do  believe  that  women  have  some 
rights,  that  even  their  sons  are  bound  to  respect." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course;  but  I  mean  voting.  You 
do  n't  believe  that  women  ought  to  vote,  do  you  ?" 


96  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

"  You  must  remember  that  I  have  never  enjoyed 
the  privilege  of  voting  but  twice,  and  hence,  am  a 
little  selfish  in  regard  to  it.  Being  a  young  voter  I  do 
not  see  the  great  necessity  of  women  voting;  but, 
now,  Susie,  you  must  know  that  if  I  was  a  girl,  I 
would  want  to  vote,  and  I  must  say,  that  I  do  admire 
a  woman  possessed  of  a  strong  mind ;  but,  some  one  is 
singing  in  the  library,  shall  we  enjoy  it? 

Wendell  Phillips'  appeals;  Mary  A.  Livermore's 
oratory ;  Elizabeth  Cady  Stanton's  rhetoric ;  Lucy 
Stone's  persuasiveness ;  and,  Susan  B.  Anthony's 
earnestness,  all  combined,  would  not  have  been  as 
potent  arguments  to  "Susie,"  in  favor  of  woman 
suffrage,  as  the  fact,  that  a  handsome  Ann  Arbor 
student  had  said,  "  if  he  was  a  girl,  he  would  want  to 
vote." 

Dear,  little,  innocent  Susie's,  throughout  these 
United  States,  there  are  thousands  of  young  men, 
handsome  young  men,  who  are  keeping  up  a  terrible 
thinking  in  the  same  direction.  These  young  men, 
— and  with  all  their  faults,  we  love  them  still— are 
making  the  discovery  that  it  requires  brains  to  keep 
house,  and  just  now,  e'en  strong-minded  housekeepers 
are  in  demand. 

Late  that  night,  Winthrop  Wright  and  Frank 
Hastings,  discussed  the  sewing  society,  and  the  girls, 
etc.,  somewhat  in  this  manner: 

"  What  a  little,  flirty,  silly,  sentimental  girl,  that 
Miss  Jones  is." 

"  Oh !  well,  it  isn't  the  girl's  fault,  Frank,  it  is  her 
mother's.  After  all,  I  do  n't  wonder  that  girls  are  so 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  97 

silly  and  soft,  we  encourage  them  in  it.  I  tell  you,  if 
girls  were  as  partial  to  ignoraut,  silly  boys,  as  we  are 
to  what  we  call  dear,  little,  lovable  women,  it  would, 
at  least,  be  a  great  comfort  to  a  lazy  fellow,  and  would 
certainly  deprive  us  of  a  great  incentive  to  action." 

"  Well,  really,  old  boy,  something  to  see  you  down 
in  the  valley  of  humiliation.  What's  to  pay  now?  " 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  I'm  ashamed  of  myself.  I 
prided  myself  on  having  some  independence  and 
manhood,  and  I've  just  about  sold  my  birth-right 
to-day — that's  all.  I  hate  myself  after  I  have  done  a 
mean  thing,  and  I  have  been  a  coward  to-day." 

"  Well,  this  grows  interesting.  It  does,  'pon  my 
word.  The  plot  thickens,  but  out  with  it,  "  the  truth, 
the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth."  Come, 
now,  I  await  your  revelation,  and  in  the  language  of 
Mark  Twain,  would  inquire,  '  is  she  dead?'  " 

"  Corne,  don't  be  nonsensical.  The  facts  are  just 
these.  This  Miss,  Warner,  they  were  all  talking 
about,  is  the  best  friend  of  my  life.  I  met  her  when 
she  was  quite  a  little  girl.  We  have  corresponded  for 
years ;  her  letters  have  saved  me  from  much  that  was 
impure  and  unmanly  during  my  college  life.  Last 
New  Year's  day  she  prevented  me  from  taking  my 
first  glass  of  wine,  and  I  pledged  to  her,  life-long  total 
abstinence.  Well,  the  fact  is,  I  loved  her,  and,  I  pre- 
sume, she  recognized  the  fact.  I  had  expected  to 
arrange  matters  with  her  during  this  visit,  when,  to 
my  astonishment,  I  find  that  she  is  announced  to 
deliver  a  lecture  on  Woman  Suffrage." 

"Well?  What  if  she  is?  You  admired  Annie 
7 


98  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

Dickinson  so  much,  I  would  have  imagined  that  you 
would  be  quite  proud  of  her,  provided  she  gives  a 
good  lecture.  That  would  be  the  point  with  me." 

Yes,  I  did  admire  Annie  Dickinson ;  but,  somehow 
I  don't  want  Marjory  to  lecture.  It  seems  different. 
I  would  'nt  want  to  marry  a  woman  and  have  her 
traveling  around  the  country  lecturing." 

"Go  with  her,  old  boy.  You  love  to  travel.  And 
then,  I  tell  you,  unless  you  develop  a  more  practical 
turn  of  mind,  you  will  find  the  checks  very  conveni- 
ent to  have  in  the  family." 

"  Come,  now  Frank,  this  is  a  serious  matter  with 
me ;  would  you  marry  a  woman  who  lectured  ?" 

"  That  would  depend  entirely  upon  the  woman ;  they 
most  all  lecture,  if  we  accept  the  testimony  of  our 
married  friends.  You  know  I  am  a  firm  believer  in 
love  founded  upon  congeniality  of  souls  and  intellects, 
and  BO  I  would —  yes,  I  would  marry  the  devil,  if  I 
loved  him  and  we  were  congenial.  But,  to  be  in 
earnest,  if  I  was  standing  in  your  boots — figuratively 
of  course— the  question  which  would  agitate  me, 
would  not  be,  shall  I  marry  a  lecturer  ?  but,  will  this 
gifted  woman  marry  me?  Your  prospects  in  this 
behalf  do  not  appear  remarkably  brilliant,  young 
man ;  you  say  she  had  reasons  to  know  that  you  loved 
her,  and  yet,  without  consulting  you,  she  quietly 
commences  a  life-work  which  may  lead  her  away 
from  home  and  love.  I  tell  you,  chum,  you  have 
some  work  before  you;  you  have  some  winning  to 
do." 

"That  is  where  I  think  you  are  mistaken;  I  do 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  99 

hope  it  is  not  vanity  in  me ;  Marjory  is  as  frank,  as 
artless,  and  as  independent  as  a  child,  and,  she  has 
almost  told  me  that  she  loves  me." 

"  Are  you  sure  that  she  does  not  mean  pure,  true 
friendship  ?  From  what  you  have  told  me,  I  judge 
that  she  is  a  superior  girl,  one  of  the  true,  pure 
maidens,  capable  of  pure,  true  love.  But,  where  does 
she  liv-e.,  and  why  hav  n't  you  proposed  to  call  on  her 
with  me?  Come,  old  fellow,  I  do  n't  wish  to  see  you 
indulging  in  selfishness  at  your  time  of  life." 

"  She  lives  here  in  the  village— is  a  sister  to  young 
Warner,  the  rising  artist;  and,  unless  I  am  mistaken, 
here  he  comes  now." 

"Good  evening,  gentlemen;  excuse  my  inexcusa- 
bly late  call,  but  I  have  just  learned  that  you  were  in 
town,  and  knowing  how  badly  you  would  be  accom- 
modated here,  I  have  come  to  take  you  home  with 
me ;  not  a  word — never  mind  about  the  time — Wright, 
you  were  kind  to  Madge,  and  that  secured  my  friend- 
ship forever;  you  know  she  is  my  idol.  Only  think 
of  it;  that  same  little  woman  has  '  saved  rne  to  art,' 
as  she  terms  it ;  actually  earned  money  enough  while 
I  was  in  college,  to  support  mother  and  herself,  so 
that  I  could  devote  myself  to  painting.  You  will 
pardon  my  enthusiasm,  gentlemen,  please,  but  every- 
body tells  me  that  Marjory  is  my  weak  point.  But, 
come  now,  go  right  home  with  me;  my  room  is 
always  ready." 

That  night,  Marjory  gave  this  thought  to  her  jour- 
nal: "  At  times  my  woman's  heart  shrinks  from  en- 
tering upon  this  new  work,  lest  it  should  lead  me 


100  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

away  from  home,  and  love ;  but  then  I  know  my 
soul  would  never  recognize  her  king  in  any  one  who 
would  love  me  less,  for  duty  performed,  and  so  I  walk 
forward,  hoping  to  realize  Margaret  Fuller's  thought : 
*  The  woman  in  me  kneels  and  weeps  in  tender  rap- 
ture; the  man  in  me  rushes  forth,  but  only  to  be  baf- 
fled. Yet  the  time  will  come,  when,  from  the  union 
of  this  tragic  king  and  queen,  shall  be  born  a  radiant 
sovereign  self."* 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  101 


CHAPTER    XYI. 

PRO  AND  CON. 

"  At  last 

She  rose  upon  the  wind  of  prophecy, 
Dilating  on  the  future;  everywhere 
Two  heads  in  council,  two  beside  the  hearth, 
Two  in  the  tangled  business  of  the  world, 
Two  in  the  liberal  offices  of  life." 

A  perfect  June  morning.  Sunshine  everywhere. 
Rollicking,  little  sunbeams  with  their  tiny,  golden 
spears,  engaged  in  a  noiseless,  merry  battle  with  the 
shadows ;  chasing  them  from  every  nook  and  corner, 
every  cove  and  glen.  The  shadows  entirely  vanished, 
sunshine  reigned  supreme.  Two.  or  three,  poor,  little 
discomfited  shades,  wandered  into  Marjory  Warner's 
eyes,  thinking  to  find  a  safe  hiding-place  'neath  their 
silken  fringe,  but  the  irresistible  sunbeams  discovered 
them  and  chased  them  out.  They  found  a  safer  retreat 
in  her  beautiful  hair,  and  there,  for  a  time,  a  battle 
waged,  but,  at  last,  the  sunbeams  conquered,  and  rest- 
ing in  the  meshes,  gleamed  and  gleamed  in  saucy 
triumph. 

The  sunshine  radiated  Marjory's  heart  as  well,  and 
this  glad  morning  she  felt  brave  and  strong,  for  life's 
labors  and  duties.  All  unconscious  of  the  arrival  of 
her  brother's  guests,  she  yet  arranged  her  toilette  in 


Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

harmony,  with  the  pure,  bright  morning.  A  pure 
white  wrapper  was  donned,  and  a  fresh  rose  and  some 
dewy  geranium  leaves  placed  in  her  hair. 

Little  Christine  prattled  and  skipped  as  she  led  her 
"  little  mother  "  to  the  library,  where  Winthrop  and 
his  friend,  somewhat  impatiently,  awaited  her  entree. 

"  Does  she  wear  bloomer,  and  is  her  hair  short  and 
parted  on  the  side  ?"  queried  Frank  Hastings  ;  while 
as  if  iu  reply,  Christine  entering  the  room  at  the 
moment,  and  expecting  to  find  Marjory's  brother 
there,  said,  "  Say,  uncle  Hugh,  aint  my  little  mamma 
boo'ful  this  mornin'." 

"  Very  '  boo'ful,'  darling,  but  you  must  not  tell  her 
so,  for  she  might  think  it  was  flattery." 

Amid  the  mutual  surprise  and  explanations,  Win- 
throp merely  introduced  Marjory  to  Mr.  Hastings,  as 
his  friend,  neglecting  to  give  her  name  —  or  rather 
deeming  it  unnecessary  ;  but  Mr.  Hastings,  not  being 
aware  that  Marjory  had  adopted  a  little  girl,  supposed 
she  was  a  married  sister  of,  and  so  continued  to  ex- 
pect, the  strong-minded.  Before  breakfast  was  con- 
cluded, however,  he  found  himself  wishing  that  this 
charming  young  woman  was  a  widow;— "Old  Vanity!" 
How  did  he  know,  that  e'en  such  a  state  of  things, 
would  benefit  him? 

After  breakfast  they  returned  to  the  library — a 
room  to  live  in — and  yet,  void  of  brussels,  mirrors,  or 
damask:  merely,  delicate  wood-color  and  green  in- 
grain, mossy  baskets,  clustering  flowers,  choice 
chromos,  and  the  best  of  books. 

Christine  had  been  wooed  to  Winthrop's  side,  and, 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  103 

as  he  toyed  with  her  curls,  he  said :  "  Will  you  ask 
your  mamma  if  she  will  give  us  some  music?  " 

"Oh!  yes  her  will — her  always  sings  for  me  when 
I'm  good,  and  I've  been  the  verwy  bestest  this  mornin', 
said  my  prayer,  and  had  my  face  washed— and  all." 

Marjory  replied  to  the  question  by  seating  herself  at 
the  piano,  and  without  any  prelude  of  affected  excuses, 
rendered  some  simple  ballads  very  beautifully.  When 
she  concluded,  Mr.  Wright  expressed  surprise,  that 
she  had  found  time  to  keep  up  her  music.  "  Married, 
of  course,"  thought  Mr.  Hastings. 

"  Oh !  no,  Mr.  Wright,  I  deem  it  just  as  much  a 
woman's  duty  to  cultivate  every  gift  which  has  a 
refining  influence  upon  home-life,  as  it  is  to  pray  ; 
and  aside  from  duty,  it  is  a  real  pleasure,  a  genuine 
comfort. 

A  few  more  songs,  and  the  conversation  became 
general.  After  a  time,  Mr.  Hastings,  who  could  no 
longer  curb  his  impatience,  said:  "Winthrop,  are 
we  not  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Miss  Warner 
this  morning  ?"  Then  addressing  the  supposed  widow, 
he  asked :  "Do  you  not  think  it  strange,  that  I  have 
never  been  honored  with  so  much  as  an  introduction 
to  one  of  your  strong-minded  ladies.  I  admired  Miss 
Dickinson  from  a  distance,  but  I  never  had  a  real  talk 
with  any  of  them ;  and  so  I  am  quite  anxious  to  meet 
Miss  Warner.  Your  sister,  I  infer  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  something  nearer  than  a  sister,  since  I 
represent  that  same  belligerent  young  woman,  or 
would  represent  her  if  I  possessed  a  vote." 

"Is  it  possible,  that  yov,  who  have  impressed  me 


104  Out  of  H&r  Sphere. 

with  your  intense  womanliness,  that  you,  are  one  of 
the  strong-minded  ?  Pardon  me,  but  it  is  rather  sur- 
prising to  a  man,  possessed  of  my  vanity,  to  have  his 
opinions  shattered,  and  completely  upset,  all  in  a 
minute.  Excuse  me  again,  and  if  you  deem  me 
impertinent,  tell  me  so.  But  how  can  you  make  up 
your  mind  to  submit  yourself  to  the  personal  criticism 
of  a  large  audience  ?  " 

"I  became  somewhat  accustomed  to  it  during  the 
late  war.  You  remember,  it  was  quite  customary, 
during  the  war,  for  young  ladies  to  sing,  recite,  and 
speak  in  public.  They  were  consecrating  their  powers 
to  the  service  of  men,  and  so  all  mankind  applauded 
and  we  were  'bouqueted,'  and  serenaded,  and  praised. 
But  now,  the  war  being  over,  if  the  same  girls,  before 
the  same  audiences,  attempt  to  speak  for  the  benefit  of 
their  own  sex,  the  prejudiced  world  cries  out, 
'unwomanly,'  'unsexed.'" 

"But,  Miss  Warner,  that  was  the  out-growth  of 
necessity,  only  a  temporary  affair.  But  now,  suppose 
a  woman  becomes  a  lecturer, — does  she  not,  in  choosing 
that  profession,  sacrifice  to  it,  home  and  all  possibili- 
ties of  wifehood  and  motherhood  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  She  would,  if  to  be  a  lecturer,  required 
her  to  absent  herself  from  home  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  days  in  the  year.  But,  fortunately,  the 
season  does  not  last  but  a  few  weeks,  and  only  a  very 
small  minority  of  women  could  lecture,  if  they 
would." 

"  You  mean  publicly,  of  course,  in-so-much  as  we 
all  admit,  that  the  gift  for  private  lecturing  is  univer- 
sal among  women." 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  105 

"  Ah,  yes ;  I  won't  quarrel  with  you  on  that  point, 
merely  would  express  my  sympathy  with  the  poor 
women,  in  that  they  so  often  are  obliged  to  take  such 
m  is er able  subjects. ' ' 

*'  Now,  really,  do  you  think  it  would  be  right  for 
women  to  hold  office  ?  Just  think  of  it ;  the  right 
once  granted,  there  is  no  stopping  place.  A  woman 
may  march  right  up  to  the  White  House." 

"  Do  you  deem  it  a  very  absurd  thing  for  a  queen  to 
reign  in  England  ?  It  always  amuses  me  a  little  to 
hear  you  gentlemen  talk  about  women  holding  office. 
You  most  always  portray  a  vivid  picture,  with  all  the 
women  of  the  United  States  rushing  to  Washington, 
and  all  the  fathers  standing  in  the  front  doors  of 
desolate  homes,  with  sobbing  children  clinging  to 
their  knees,  wailing, 

'•  Come  back !    Come  back  ! 
My  highland  chief— 
And  I'll  forgive  my  highland  daughter," 

after  the  manner  of  the  Third  Reader  (McGuffey's). 
One  would  suppose  that  every  woman  could  be  a 
member  of  Congress,  if  she  chose,  and  that  any  woman 
could  appropriate  the  presidential  chair.  Now,  in 
our  own  State,  only  one  woman  in  each  congress- 
ional district,  would  be  allowed  to  go  to  Congress, 
and,  in  each  district  that  I  have  any  knowledge  of, 
there  is,  at  least,  one  woman  who  could  be  spared ;  and, 
usually,  there  is  one  who  is  not  married.  In  feet,  I 
believe  we  could  find  enough  widows  in  the  country 
to  represent  us  in  Congress ;  and  hence,  we  need  not 
interfere  with  the  marriage  relation  at  all.  Again,  I 


106  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

have  been  informed,  and  by  gentlemen,  too,  that  no 
one  could  become  President  of  the  United  States, 
without  receiving  a  majority  vote.  Now,  do  you 
suppose  that  we  "  angels  "  would  be  selfish  enough  to 
object,  if  a  majority  of  all  the  people  of  these  great 
States,  would  desire  to  have  a  woman  president? 
Think  you,  we  would  dare  oppose  our  puny  will  to 
yours?" 

"  Well,  really,  you  have  a  direct  way  of  putting 
questions,  and  I  think  I  will  read  up  a  little  on  the 
subject.  But.  depend  upon  it,  whenever  you  are  a 
candidate,  you  shall  have  my  vote." 

"The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  Marjory's  brother,  who  announced  that  the  horses 
were  at  the  door;  and,  giving  Madge  a  brotherly 
caress,  bade  her  don  her  riding  habit,  and  guide  them 
into  the  most  charming  localities." 

When  Winthrop  Wright  heard  her  argue  with  Mr. 
Hastings,  his  mental  comment  was,  she  was  born  for 
friendship,  I  will  win  her  for  my  life's  best  friend. 
But,  when  she  came  gracefully  down  stairs ;  when  he 
observed  her  dainty  gloves  and  cunning  gaiters  ;  and 
then,  just  before  they  started,  when  little  Christine 
came  running  down  the  steps,  saying,  "  Your  little 
girls  wants  one  more  kiss,  little  mamma ;"  and  he 
noticed  the  tenderness  of  her  answering  caress  ;  he 
could  but  think,  "  she  will  make  somebody  a  true 
wife." 

Out  into  the  leafy  woods,  receiving  a  benediction  of 
beauty,  our  Marjory  was  no  longer  oppressed  with  the 
sorrow  and  want  of  the  lowly  and  poor,  but,  seemed  a 


Out  of  Her  /Sphere.  107 

very  sprite  of  merriment  and  life,  sunshine  and  pleas- 
ure ;  a  typical  sunny-hearted  maiden,  but  ever  and 
always  'neath  the  velvet  glove  of  youth,  hope,  and 
enthusiasm,  was  the  pure  iron  ore  of  principle  and 
moral  courage.  The  waters  ever  pure  and  life-giving 
although  the  play  of  the  fountain  was  beauty  itself. 
Destined,  it  seemed,  to  a  life-long  conflict  between 
heart  and  head.  Hungry  for  love,  yet  scorning  any 
but  the  purest.  Destined  to  be  forever  misunder- 
stood by  the  impure  and  prejudiced,  and  yet  sure  of 
winning  the  love  of  the  good.  With  a  heart  like  a 
sensitive  plant,  the  soul  of  a  warrior,  and  the  brain 
of  a  strong  man,  life  to  her  must  be  composed  of  rarest 
happiness,  purest  pleasure,  and,  also,  alas,  daily  mar- 
tyrdom. 

Her  heart  said,  "  win  love  and  home,  or  you  will 
die."  Her  brain  said,  "  sacrifice  your  gifts  to  your 
heart,  and  God  will  demand  of  thee  thy  talent." 
Wait  for  a  love  that  will  not  fear  your  brain.  Her 
soul  said,  "  possess  thyself  in  patience,  and  trust  in 
God." 


But  what  did  the  world  say  ?  The  world— her  world, 
.said,  "an  ambitious  girl,  a  coquette,  discontented; 
wants  to  be  a  man."  Some  of  her  loved,  said  to  her, 
"you  are  fitted  to  make  a  beautiful  home;  you  are 
wrong  in  refusing  to  adorn  one ;  you  are  in  love  with 
an  ideal." 

Her  own  womanly  heart  said,  "  I  believe  in  my  in- 
most soul  that  I  could  love  Winthrop  Wright,  and 


108  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

will  love  him,  if  he  proves  to  be  brave  enough  to 
believe  in  me,  notwithstanding  prejudice.  But,  I  must 
perform  my  whole  duty — I  will  perform  it,  and,  if  it 
leads  me  away  from  home  and  love,  I  have  a  house 
not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens."  Thus 
her  life  was  unfolding.  Into  every  day  she  endeav- 
ored to  weave  some  act  of  kindness,  some  labor  of 
love.  Out  into  the  world  for  a  time,  leaving  little 
Christine  as  her  proxy,  at  home ;  then,  back  again  to 
her  loved  ones  with  a  new  zest  for  home-life  and  re- 
newed consecration  to  her  work.  The  days  came  and 
went,  and  still  her  prayer  was,  "  Father  guide  me." 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  109 


OHAPTEE  XVII. 

"  MARRIAGE  BELLS." 

"  Fairy  gold  ?  moss  and  leaves  ?  and  the  young  Fairy  Bride  ? 
Lived  there  yet  fairy-lands  in  the  face  at  his  side." 
***** 

"  Perchance  't  was  the  fanlt  of  the  life  that  they  led ; 
Perchance  't  was  the  fanlt  of  the  novels  they  read ; 
Perchance  'twas  a  tault  in  themselves ;  I  am  bound  not 
To  say ;  this  I  know— that  these  two  creatures  found  not 
In  each  other  some  sign  they  expected  to  find 
Of  a  something  unnamed  in  the  heart  or  the  mind  ; 
And  missing  it  each  felt  a  right  to  complain 
Of  a  sadness  which  each  found  no  word  to  explain." 

"  Gala  Days  "  at  the  old  Wright  homestead  ;  unus- 
ual bustle  and  confusion  in  the  usually  quiet  farm- 
house. 

The  sweet  orchard-fragrance  was  overpowered  by  the 
aroma  of  oriental  spices  and  tropical  fruits.  The  quaint, 
blue  china  has  been  wooed  from  its  hiding  place ; 
tempting  loaves  of  cake  are  congregated  under  a  snowy 
table-cloth  ;  mountains  of  ham  (a  figure  of  speech  ;) 
and  hillocks  of  tongue  (another  figure;)  and  above  all, 
the  merry  din  of  girlish  voices  and  giggles.  Every- 
body endeavors  to  appear  merry,  and  yet  good  Mrs. 
Wright  has  suddenly  ceased  work,  her  mother-hands 
yielding  to  the  mother-heart,  which  protests  against 
these  preparations.  The  good,  old  father  wanders  in 


110  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

from  his  work,  and  asks  Daisy  to  sew  a  button  on  for 
him ;  not  that  he  cared  anything  about  the  button, 
but  he  liked  to  keep  her  near  him  ;  and  Winthrop  has 
persistently  remained  out  in  the  field  at  work, 
because  he  cannot  endure  to  witness  the  preparation 
in  doors.  Daisy,  the  pet,  the  idol  of  the  household,  is 
to  be  married.  To-morrow  she  is  to  bid  good-bye  to 
this  happy  home  of  her  girlhood ;  leave  all  the  girl- 
friends who  have  loved  her  during  these  years.  Bid 
good-bye  to  her  sterling,  honest  father;  yield  a 
mother's  tender  care,  and  go  forth  a  bride,  to  live  in  a 
crowded  city  among  strangers. 

Ah,  young  husband,  remember  this,  1  beg  of  you  ; 
and  yield  your  pure,  young  bride,  such  a  largesse  of 
love,  of  tenderness,  and  thoughtfulness,  that  her 
heart  shall  never  grow  hungry  for  a  father's  caress,  a 
mother's  love,  or  a  brother's  tenderness.  How  is  it 
with  you  ?  Do  you  sacrifice  as  much  ?  You  have 
lived  for  years  in  a  boarding-house;  your  wash- 
woman has  sent  home  to  you  buttonless  linen ;  and 
you  have,  with  bacheloric-awkwardness,  endeavored 
to  repair  it.  You  have  returned  at  the  close  of 
the  day,  to  a  dreary  room.  Now,  you  retain  your 
friends,  your  business,  your  home,  and  also  gain  a 
companion,  a  linen-mender,  and  a  wife. 

Daisy  had  written  to  Marjory : 

MY  DARLING  :— For  the  sake  of  "  Lang  Syne,"  put 
aside  your  public  work,  and  come  to  me  for  a  few 
days— the  last  of  my  glad,  happy  girl-hood.  Come, 
dear; — I  want  your  loving  heart  near  mine,  and  I 
want  your  artistic  taste  and  skillful  hands,  to  adorn 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  Ill 

the  old  home.  The  new  love  does  not  so  over-shadow 
the  old,  as  to  take  away  the  pain  of  this  gopd-bye  to 
home.  Wmthrop  refuses  to  be  comforted,  and  when 
he  holds  me  in  his  great,  strong  arms,  and  says,  "  God 
bless  you,  little  sister,"  I  sometimes  wonder  if  the 
new  love  will  be  as  forgiving  and  tender  as  his.  Do 
not  think  I  do  not  love  my  future  husband — I  do. 
But  there  is  so  much  tenderness  evinced  towards  me 
by  father,  mother,  and  Winthrop,  that  I  feel  verily 
guilty  and  selfish  in  leaving  them.  Come  to  me, 
dear" 

And  Marjory  was  there.  Just  now  we  find  her  sur- 
veying the  effort  of  her  labors  in  the  "  front  room.' 
Aunt  Jane's  favorite  ornament,  a  pitcher  of  asparagus, 
had  been  evoked  from  the  fire-place,  and  the  brown 
and  blackened  niche,  glorified  with  mosses  and  trail- 
ing vines,  until  that  erst-time,  practical  fire-place, 
seemed  a  veritable  grotto,  from  whence,  at  any 
moment,  one  might  evoke  a  genuine  fairy.  Chairs 
were  whisked  out  of  life-long  positions,  until  they 
almost  stood  upon  two  legs  in  surprise.  The  square 
tower  of  family  pictures  was  smoothed  down  into 
irregular  hillocks.  The  snowy,  white  curtains  were 
rescued  from  their  life-long  frigidity  of  straightness, 
and  wooed  into  snowy  curves,  looped  back  with  ever- 
greens and  vines.  The  truthful,  old  mirror  was  so 
adorned  and  decorated,  its  heavy  mahogany  frame 
broidered  and  trellised  with  vines;  the  two  gilt 
knobs  converted  into  mossy  baskets,  and  a  beautiful 
hanging-basket  suspended  in  front  of  it,  until  its  very 
reflections  became  some -what  worldly. 


Out  of  Her  Sphwe. 

A  large  flag  drooped  gracefully  acrose  the  press- 
doors;  and,  in  fact,  the  whole  room  was  completely 
changed.  Marjory  found  it  in  proper  trim  for  a  very 
proper  funeral.  She  left  it,  suggestive  of  a  bridal. 

Yet,  more  than  this,  had  our  "  strong-minded " 
effected.  She  had  so  completely  won  an  entrance  into 
Mrs.  Wright's  heart,  that  three  entire  widths  had 
been  coaxed  from  her  best  black  silk,  while  the  front 
one  was  actually  gored, — so  that  Mrs.  Wright  would 
be  fashionable  in  her  resemblance  to  a  churn,  rather 
than  out  of  fashion  in  her  resemblance  to  a  tub. 

These  duties  performed,  Marjory  chose  the  shaded 
back-porch,  as  the  most  comfortable  place  for  the 
making  of  cream-cakes.  With  sleeves  looped  above 
her  dimpled  elbows,  she  commenced  preparations,  all 
unconscious  of  Winthrop's  presence  in  the  adjoining 
hall,  or  of  his  earnest  attention. 

The  requisite  number  of  eggs  had  been  broken, 
when  Mrs.  Mehitable  Green  stepped  on  to  the  porch. 
Taking  off  her  bonnet,  and  fanning  herself  with  a 
"turkey-wing,"  she  in  vaded  the  silence  with  the  words, 
"  the  law  me,  if  that  do  n't  beat  me.  Why  you  're 
as  handy  as  a  rollin'-pin,  and  as  spry  as  a  cat.  I 
never  lowed  you  city  gals  knowed  anything  'bout 
cookin'.  But,  may-be  you  just  learned  a  little,  so  as 
to  ketch  Mr.  Winthrop.  Wonder  if  you  did,  now? 
There 's  a  heap  o'  girls  arter  him.  Can  you  make 
bread?  If  you  can't,  your  cake's  all  dough,  so  fur  as 
he  is  concerned.  But  what  is  that  you  are  mussin' 
in?" 

"  I  am  attempting  to  make  some  cream  cakes." 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  113 

"  Cream  cakes  ?  Does  Miss  Wright  know  it?  'Cause 
with  all  the  folks  they  've  asked  to  the  weddin',  I 
rather  guess  she  '11  need  all  her  cream." 

"  Oh,  we  do  n't  use  real  cream  ;  it  is  made  of  sugar 
and  milk." 

"  Yes,  I'll  be  bound !  cream  cakes  and  not  a  thim- 
ble full  of  cream  in  them.  For  my  part  I  believe  in 
calling  things  by  their  right  names.  But,  say,  I 
heerd  that  that  gal  that  lectures  was  out  heer  bossin' 
round  considerable,  and  I  would  like  mighty  well  to 
see  her.  Now,  you  have  a  mighty  obleeging  look 
about  ye ;  could  n't  you  call  her  out  here  lor  some- 
thing? I  do  want  to  get  a  peek  at  her.  They  say  she 
is  right  decent  lookin'.  How  a  woman  can  get  up 
and  talk  right  before  men  folks,  beats  me.  Law !  I 
could  no  more  do  it  than  nothin\  I  jest  know  I'd  faint 
on  the  spot.  But,  then  if  a  body  can,  I  do  n't  see  as 
a  body  ought  ter  say  they  shan't.  Now  I'm  as  igner- 
ant  as  an  Injun,  and  I  do  n't  know  nothin'  'bout  poli- 
tics, but,  if  I  had  a  vote  I  would  walk  to  town  every- 
time  jest  to  vote  agin  whisky.  I  tell  ye,  if  we  don't 
know  much  'bout  taxin',  and  them  things,  we'd  do 
about  right  when  it  come  to  whisky,  and  some  other 
things,  I  tell  you  mothers  know  what  is  ruinin'  their 
sons,  and  my  old  man  aint  a  bit  more  sensible  than 
I  am,  and  my  boys  allers  votes  the  way  I  want  'em 
too.  But,  how  I  have  run  on.  I  hope  you'll  'scuse 
me." 

"  You  have  given  me  some  valuable  ideas,  and  I 
thank  you  for  them.  It  is  because  I  believe  that  the 
mothers  of  the  country  do  know  what  their  sons  and 


114  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

daughters  most  need  that  I  have  summoned  courage 
to  speak  before  our, '  men  folks,'  as  you  call  them. 

"Oh!  goody  gracious!  You  don't  tell  me?  You 
aint  the  lecturer,  be  you?  Why  you  do  n't  look  a  bit 
like  a  man,  and  you  're  as  easy  as  an  old  shoe.  Well, 
it  jest  beats  me,  and  I  must  run  right  home  and  tell 
Israel,  and  fetch  him  over." 


Out  on  the  old  porch  at  the  quiet  evening  time, 
amid  a  snow  of  blossoms  and  a  shower  of  bird  music, 
Marjory  and  Winthrop  are  seated.  The  bridal  is  a 
memory,  and  their  blithe,  bonnie  "  Daisy  "  has  been 
transplanted  into  city  life,  and  a  city  home.  Win- 
throp's  brother-heart  rebels,  and  in  vain  has  Marjory 
endeavored  to  comfort  him,  and  now  they  silently 
listen  to  the  chirping  crickets  and  re-iterant  "katy- 
dids. 

"  Marjory,  you  are  an  enigma  ;  you  seem  to  possess 
two  distinct  natures.  During  these  two  days  you 
have  seemed  a  fun-loving,  merry,  frolicksome  girl ;  a 
veritable  household  fairy  "  to  the  manor  born  ;"  and  I 
had  almost  persuaded  myself  that  it  would  not  be 
selfish  to  endeavor  to  win  you  to  private  life.  When 
I  took  up  this  paper,  and  when  I  read  this  glowing 
tribute,  I  knew  you  had  a  public  work  to  do ;  but  will 
you  not  allow  me  to  be  your  life's  best  friend  ?  you 
have  made  me  a  better  man,  and  no  one  will  ever  be 
able  to  do  for  me  what  you  have  done.  No  matter 
where  you  are,  or  what  your  life-work,  ever  and 
always  command  my  services,  and  they  are  yours. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  115 

But  what  have  you  been  thinking  about  so  earnestly? 
Come,  now,  honest  confession  !" 

"  I  have  been  thinking  about  your  sister,  and  about 
how  much  more  marriage  means  to  a  woman,  than  it 
does  to  a  man.  Now  it  seems  to  me,  that  when  a  wo- 
man is  married,  a  man  is  married  also ;  and  that  he  is 
just  as  much  married  as  she  is ;  but  the  world  does  not 
think  so.  For  instance:  Your  new  brother-in-law 
was  married  this  morning.  He  takes  his  wife  to  his 
boarding-house,  loves  her,  and  is  certainly  married, 
and  yet  his  business  goes  on  ;  he  has  a  life-work  aside 
from  all  that.  But  how  about  Daisy.  With  all  of  her 
sewing  done,  she  goes  among  strangers,  into  a  board- 
ing-house, with  nothing  in  the  world  to  do,  but  to  be 
married — nothing  to  do.  I  do  not  wonder  that  some 
brides  are  homesick,  exacting  and  peverish. 

"  Now  let  us  imagine  that  your  sister  had  cultivated 
and  developed  her  taste  for  music;  that  without 
losing  caste  she  could  secure  a  few  music  scholars, 
and  thus  employ  her  time,  and  what  is  better  still, 
assist  her  young  husband  in  earning  their  home.  Or, 
imagine,  that  she  had  studied  law.  With  womanly 
taste  and  tact  she  converts  her  husband's  dreary  office 
into  a  home,  and  remains  with  him  during  the  day,  as 
companion  and  partner.  Think  you,  she  would  be 
less  happy,  less  wifely  than  if  she  was  shut  up  alone 
in  a  boarding-house?  Ah  !  my  good  friend,  you  gen- 
tlemen do  not  dream  of  the  extent  to  which  you  are 
defrauded." 

"  Marjory,  I  believe  you  are  one  of  the  few  women 
who  believe  that  men  have  some  rights  that  women 


116  Out  of  Tier  Sphere. 

are  bound  to  respect,  so  expose  to  me  some  of  the 
ways  in  which  we  are  defrauded." 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,  you  have  been  obliged  to 
do  all  of  the  preaching,  healing,  money-getting  and 
legislating  of  the  world ;  and  I  have  known  many 
young  men  deprived  of  love  and  home,  for  years,  in 
order  that  they  might  earn  enough  money,  to  justify 
them  in  indulging  in  the  luxury  of  a  wife ;  and  then, 
how  often  after  marriage  does  the  husband  toil  day 
and  night  in  order  that  he  may  support  his  wife  and 
daughters,  in  idleness." 

"Really,  that  is  true.  But  you  forget  one  thing. 
The  duties  of  motherhood  would  conflict  with  a  pro- 
fession." 

"  Not  nearly  so  much  as  one  would  at  first  suppose ; 
and  then  children  don't  remain  children  forever.  They 
have  a  habit  of  growing  up,  and  then  the  mother, 
with  all  her  wealth  of  experience,  and,  in  the  maturi- 
ty of  her  powers,  is  crowded  into  a  corner  to  knit 
stockings  for  the  grand-children." 

"  But,  you  take  a  different  view  of  this  subject  from 
most  women.  I  thought  women  complained  that 
they  were  over-taxed,  &c." 

"  Ah  !  no — the  trouble  is  not  that  women  have  too 
much  to  do,  but  that  so  many  are  obliged  to  perform 
distateful  labor,  and  that  they  are  so  poorly  paid  for 
their  labor.  I  made  a  discovery  a  few  days  since. 
Mother  and  I  invited  a  hundred  persons  to  an  enter- 
tainment ;  two-thirds  of  the  married  men  asked  to  be 
excused  because  they  could  not  leave  their  business, 
while  not  a  half  dozen  women  declined.  Now 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  117 

almost  every  one  of  these  gentlemen  are  depriving 
themselves  of  social  enjoyment,  and  all  recreation, 
in  order  that  their  wives  and  daughters  may  be 
"ladies."  A  false  step,  a  runaway  horse,  some  slight 
accident,  and  the  strong,  right  arm  is  powerless,  and 
wife  and  daughter  left  helpless  and  dependent  on  the 
world.  Ah!  when  I  have  seen  so  many  helpless 
widows  dragged  down  by  poverty,  merely  because 
they  were  not  educated  to  be  self-reliant,  it  makes  me 
tremble  to  see  a  glad,  young  girl,  become  a  wife, 
unless  she  is,  or  can  become,  self-supporting," 

"  But  what  will  become  of  our  housekeepers?" 

"  Wh.at  has  become  of  them,  my  good  friend? 
Your  sister  does  not  expect  to  keep  house.  If  they 
would  take  possession  of  a  house  to-day,  Mr.  Bay 
would  hire  a  cook.  Women  lose  caste  now  in  fash- 
ionable society  if  they  are  housekeepers.  No,  you 
have  put  a  premium  upon  woman's  idleness,  and  the 
world  is  deprived  of  a  wonderful  amount  of  labor. 
Julia  Ward  Howe,  beautifully  says :  "  If  I  could 
enter  the  nurseries  of  the  land  I  would  say  to  the 
petted  inmates :  put  aside  your  toy-loves,  and  toy- 
friendships;  the  age  is  full  grown;  there  is  blessed 
work  to  do, — blessed  work,  with  blessed  wages." 

"  Marjory,  how  do  you  find  time  to  think  so  much  ? 
You  are  a  constant  surprise  to  me." 

"It  is  just  as  easy  to  see  these  things,  if  one  will 
only  keep  one's  eyes  open.  Then  I  have  been  visiting 
among  my  married  friends,  and  these  girls'  husbands 
are  obliged  to  work ;  they  come  home  three  times  a 
day  to  eat.  And  these  girls,  with  their  education 


118  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

and  gifts,  have  adopted  as  their  life-work,  keeping  a 
boarding-house  for  one,  for  but  very  few  of  my  school 
friends  are  mothers." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  intend  to  do  when  you  are 
married  ?  " 

•'  I  hope  to  live  with  my  husband.  I  do  n't  propose 
to  bid  him  good-bye,  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
mornings  of  each  year,  and  live  my  life  entirely  apart 
from  him.  I  want  to  share  his  labors,  be  interested 
in  his  business,  and  know  his  friends.  I  want  to 
preach,  and  I  hope  to  marry — well,  say  an  editor — 
then  in  our  cosy  sanctum  we  could  sit  together,  and 
he  write  his  editorials,  and  I  could  write  my  sermons. 

"  Strange,  is  n't  it?  But  I  am  suddenly  seized  with 
an  intense  desire  to  become  an  editor." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments,  then  Winthrop 
laid  his  hand  on  Marjory's  head,  saying,  "  Confident 
that  after  knowing  you  I  can  never  love  another 
woman,  I  yet  feel  that  I  would  not  satisfy  you,  and 
that  you  could  not  yield  to  me  the  intense  love  my 
nature  demands,  and  so,  darling,  good-bye." 

He  went  to  his  room,  blind  to  his  own  mistake, 
while  Marjory  sat,  still  as  a  statue,  quietly,  calmly, 
icily  accepting  her  fate.  Recognizing  that  her  work 
if  performed,  must  be  wrought  out  alone,  since  not 
yet  did  even  the  best  men  fully  understand  how 
intense  love  and  intense  womanliness,  could  be  united 
with  self-reliance  and  consecration  to  the  public  good. 

Looking  calmly  into  the  future,  it  was  not  all  dark. 
She  had  much  to  live  for.  Life  was  worth  living  out, 
but,  oh!  it  seemed  so  lonely,  and  the  woman-soul 


Out  of  Her  /Sphere.  119 

quivered  and  agonized  in  view  of  the  uncrowned  life- 
work  ;  and  yet  she  asked  God  that  he  would  give  her 
strength  to  live  and  perform  her  entire  duty.  And  so, 
her  heart  did  not  break ;  and  the  next  morning  when 
Winthrop  heard  her  singing,  not  knowing  what  a 
struggle  it  was  for  her  to  conquer  self  and  sing  for 
Daisy's  father,  his  mental  comment  was,  "  is  it  possi- 
ble that  her  intellect  has  dwarfed  her  soul?"  And 
thus  they  drifted  apart. 


120  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

IN  THE  LYCEUM. 

"  A  woman  cannot  do  the  thing  she  ought, 
Which  means  the  perfect  thing,  she  can 
In  life,  in  art,  in  science,  but  she  fears 
To  let  the  perfect  action  take  her  part 
And  rest  there ;  she  must  prove  what  she  can  do 
Before  she  does  it.          *          *          * 

There 's  no  need  to  speak ; 
The  universe  shall  henceforth  speak  for  you 
And  witness,  '  She  who  did  this  thing  was  born 
To  do  it— claims  her  license  in  her  work.'1 " 

A  delightful  day  for  driving,  and  all  the  world  is 
on  wheels.  The  fashionable  "Saratoga  world."  We 
watch  the  panoramic  procession  of  glittering  vehicles 
and  prancing  steeds,  and,  after  the  survey  we  do  not 
envy  the  riders  or  drivers.  The  faces  are  not  happy, 
for  the  most  wearisome  life-work  in  the  world  is  the 
pursuit  of  pleasure;  especially  during  the  summer 
months. 

Ah !  ye  happy  maidens  of  village  or  farm  house, 
indulging  in  the  luxury  of  cool  ginghams  and  loose 
sacques;  at  liberty  to  patter  barefooted  over  mossy 
stones  in  sparkling  brooks  !  Ah !  out  under  the 
shadowy  oak  you  read  the  last  story  of  "  high  life  at  a 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  121 

watering  place,"  and,  like  dear  Faith  Gartney,  really 
believe  that  there  are  beautiful  times  in  the  world 
which  you  are  not  in.  Would  that  I  could  lift  you 
from  your  shaded  retreat  and  set  you  down  in  Sara- 
toga. Doomed  to  wear  your  Sabbath  clothes,  to  be 
stabbed  by  hair-pins  and  incarcerated  in  corsets,  new 
shoes  and  flutings,  and  dress  for  dinner  and  dress  for 
the  evening.  Surely  ask  not  to  be  placed  on  exhibi- 
tion during  the  summer  months.  If  your  good  clothes 
must  be  displayed,  hire  a  wax-figure  to  wear  them, 
and  you  stay  at  home  and  revel  in  comfort  and  loose 
sacques. 

However,  my  advice  is  given  too  late  in  the  season, 
and  Saratoga  is  in  the  midst  of  its  gaieties,  and  on  this 
afternoon  there  is  a  flutter  of  excitement.  Saratoga  is 
to  be  invaded  by  the  new  reform.  Marjory  Warner 
has  been  invited  to  lecture  there,  and  the  fashionable 
world  does  not  know  exactly  what  to  do  about  it. 
Young  girls  who  have  dressed  for  exhibition,  and 
stood  unblushingly  'neath  the  bright  gas-light,  now 
shrug  their  immodestly  bare  shoulders,  and  wonder 
how  a  lady  can  face  an  audience  and  make  a  speech. 

Dissolute  young  men,  who  have  no  right  to  enter 
the  presence  of  pure  maidens,  assure  their  sweet- 
hearts that  true  women  abide  at  home,  &c.,  &c. 

But,  to  return  to  our  procession.  An  elegant  coupee 
attracts  our  observation,  aud  surmounted  by  satin  and 
lace,  and  decked  with  jewelry,  we  discover  our  friend 
Maude  Johnstone,  now  Mrs.  Warren  Huntington. 
She  has  taken  a  cottage  for  the  season,  and  the  friend, 
sitting  opposite,  is  visiting  her,  and  is  one  of  the 


122  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

reigning  belles  of  the  "season."  Maude's  husband 
remains  in  the  heated  city,  toiling  on,  alone,  weary 
and  homesick  for  his— children.  His  wife  has  ceased 
to  be  much  company  for  him. 

Mrs.  Huntington  is  indignant  that  Marjory,  her 
erst-time  acquaintance,  is  coming  to  Saratoga;  and 
Mrs.  Huntington's  friend,  who  has  the  misfortune  to 
be  a  distant  relative  of  Marjory's,  is  in  a  "  perfect 
fever  "  lest  she  should  hunt  her  up  and  proclaim  the 
relationship. 

"  What  would  we  do  if  she  should  call  upon  us?" 

"Send  word  that  we  are  not  at  home,  of  course ; 
but  I  would  like  to  hear  the  lecture,  just  to  see  how 
she  does." 

"  Well,  I  do  n't  want  to  hear  her.  I  shall  be  in  ter- 
ror so  long  as  she  is  here.  At  first  I  really  thought  of 
taking  a  trip  to  New- York,  but — ahem,  it  is  hardly 
safe  to  leave  my  bacheloric  cavalier  yet.  Would  n't 
his  highness  be  horrified  if  he  knew  the  '  strong- 
minded  '  was  my  cousin  f" 

"  Well,  really  I  do  n't  know.  These  men  are  queer 
compounds.  Mr.  Huntington  thinks  Marjory  the 
noblest  woman  he  has  ever  met,  and  when  she  lectur- 
ed, in  Washington,  he  took  her  out  driving,  and  pre- 
sented her  with  exquisite  flowers,  and  treated  her  as 
though  she  was  an  empress.  He  was  so  determined 
that  we  should  entertain  her,  that  I  was  compelled  to 
go  down  to  mother's  and  stay  a  week.  Do  you  know 
that  Mrs.  Montague  is  to  entertain  her  ?  Your  bache- 
lor seems  to  endorse  whatever  his  widowed  sister 
does." 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  123 

"What?  Your  don't  mean  that  the  elegant, 
wealthy,  fastidious  Mrs.  Montague  is  to  entertain 
her  ?" 

"  Here  it  is.  You  can  read  for  yourself.  I  brought 
it  for  your  special  delectation,  but  thought  it  best  not 
to  break  the  news  too  suddenly." 

Miss  Grafton  seized  the  paper,  and  readily  dis- 
covered this  paragraph, 

"MISS  MARJORY   WARNER." 

"This  gifted,  accomplished,  and  we  must  add, 
beautiful  young  lady,  has  arrived  in  our  city,  and  is 
the  guest  of  Mrs.  Mary  Montague.  As  the  lecture  is 
given  under  the  auspices  of  the  Young  Men's  Library 
Association,  we  doubt  not  the  elite  of  our  city  will 
honor  this  modern  Portia  with  their  presence." 

Twice  was  this  read  by  the  mortified,  terrified 
cousin,  and  then  the  haughty  belle  exclaimed,  "I 
do  n't  believe  it.  Some  one  has  put  it  in  for  a  joke. 
But,  here  comes  his  honor ;  now,  I  will  ask  him. 
Andrew,  drive  to  the  left  sidewalk." 

The  ladies  inclined  their  heads,  and  Gustave 
Adair,  (the  one-armed  soldier,  the  "  ex-general,"  and 
"  the  lion  of  the  season),  with  hat  in  hand,  approached 
the  coupee. 

"We  merely  wished  to  congratulate  you  because 
of  your  distinguished  guest,  and  to  tender  our  assis- 
tance and  willingness  to  come  to  the  rescue,  in  case 
she  endeavors  to  deprive  you  of  your  rights." 

"Ah,  thank  you— thank  you— I  have  not  met  her 
yet,  but  have  been  gliding  through  back  doors  and 
side  entrances,  perfectly  overpowered  by  the  presence 


1 24  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

of  so  much  strong-mindedness.  You  will  attend  the 
lecture,  of  course  ?  If  for  nothing  else  than  to  see 
how  I  do  the  introduction  ?" 

"  You  ?    Are  you  to  introduce  her  ?" 

"  Certainly;  I  am  president  of  the  Association,  you 
know.  Now  do  n't  fail  me,  for  I  shall  depend  upon 
your  eyes  for  my  inspiration." 

The  carriage  rolled  on,  and  after  an  exhaustive 
mental  effort,  Miss  Grafton  pronounced  this  planet  in 
which  we  dwell,  a  "  queer  world." 

"  I  think  I  w'M  go  to-night.  Will  you  chaperone 
me,  Maude?" 

"  Oh !  I  do  n't  know.  It  is  such  an  effort  for  me  to 
dress.  You  do  not  know  what  an  effort  it  takes  for 
me  to  go  anywhere.  Since  my  marriage,  I  have  been 
so  tired  with  poor  servants  and  bad  nurses,  that  I  am 
perfectly  worn  out;  almost  tired  of  life;"  and  the 
young  wife  of  the  wealthy  Warren  Huntington,  sank 
back  amid  her  cushions  wearily  and  listlessly.  She 
had  sold  herself  for  an  "establishment,"  and  the 
coveted  "  mess  of  pottage,  "  had  turned  to  ashes  in  her 
grasp. 

As  Gustave  Adair  entered  his  sister's  drawing  room, 
there  floated  through  the  air  the  sweetest  voice  he 
had  ever  heard.  Remaining  almost  motionless  until 
the  song  was  concluded,  he  advanced,  in  order 
that  he  might  be  presented  to  the  singer.  He  was 
surprised  when  he  looked  upon  her  delicate,  xpirituelle 
face;  when  he  observed  her  delicate  filmy  dress, 
broidered  with  exquisite  lace  ruffles ;  but,  when  she 
glided  towards  him  with  the  air  of  a  born  princess, 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  125 

placed  her  small  hand  in  his,  with  the  assertion  that, 
"  she  always  gave  her  hand  to  a  returned  soldier," 
he  yielded  his  earnest  admiration.  For  the  first  time, 
this  ^proud,  princely  man  had  met  a  woman  who 
could  look  calmly  into  his  eyes,  as  his  peer.  Their 
eyes  met.  His  drooped  'neath  her  pure,  soulfull  gaze, 
and,  although  all  unconscious  of  the  fact,  Marjory  held 
his  heart  in  the  hollow  of  her  little  hand,  for  he  had 
found  his  angel. 

Sitting  there,  conversing  with  her  of  books  and  au- 
thors, of  places  and  faces,  of  parties  and  principles, 
spell-bound  by  her  earnestness,  and  then  by  her  flash- 
ing wit,  this  man  of  the  world  recognized  the  exalted 
beanty  of  symmetrical  womanhood.  Womanhood 
indigenous  to  the  temperate  zone  of  life,  the  zone 
where  head  and  heart  co-operate  in  symmetrical  har- 
mony. 


The  Opera  House  was  crowded.  The  first  arrivals 
looked  anxious,  but  very  soon  Deacon  Croaker  ar- 
rived, and  then  the  timid  ones  settled  calmly  into 
their  seats  and  awaited  further  developments.  Sev- 
eral very  orthodox  clergymen  balanced  on  the  edges 
of  the  seats,  as  though  expecting  a  cry  of  fire,  and, 
with  an  expression  of  surprise  at  finding  themselves 
there,  visible  on  their  faces.  Occasionally  some  sty- 
lish belle  would  rustle  in,  and  attract  as  much  atten- 
tion as  though  she  represented  the  dramatis  personce 
by  the  manner  in  which  she  shook  her  jeweled  fan  in 
surprise  at  the  presence  of  other  fashionable  friends — 


126  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

friends  who  had  probably  assured  her  during  the  day, 
that  they  would  not  attend  the  lecture.  You  see,  it 
was  before  they  heard  that  the  lecturer  was  to  be  en- 
tertained by  the  wealthy  Mrs.  Deacon  Croaker,  and  to 
be  introduced  by  one  of  the  lionized  Mr.  Croakers. 
There  is  a  suspicion  of  Vanity  Fair  at  Saratoga. 

Suddenly  the  sweet  notes  of  a  silver  band  are  heard, 
and  ere  the  liquid  notes  are  lost  in  the  distance,  the 
auditors  whisper,  "  how  pleasant  is  to  have  music  in 
the  lyceum ;  strange  the  Committee  never  thought  of 
It  before.  Ah !  a  woman  is  on  the  other  side  of  the 
screen ;  and  look,  see !  flowers,  too. 

An  expectant  hush,  as  Gustave  Adair  escorts  the 
fair  lecturer  to  the  platform.  The  audience  glanced 
at  the  soulfull  face ;  then  at  the  delicate  lavender  silk, 
covered  with  a  filmy,  delicate,  black  lace  shawl :  at 
the  small  hands  and  little  feet ;  and  ere  she  had 
spoken  one  word,  she  evoked  the  applause  of  the 
large  audience,  by  the  power  of  womanhood  alone. 

Graceful  as  a  lily,  with  slightly  bowed  head,  she 
listened  to  the  introduction  of  Mr.  Adair,  which  must 
have  been  inspired  by  somebody's  eyes.  Every  ear 
was  attentive  as  he  said  : 

"  LADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN  :— As  a  citizen-soldier, 
it  is  with  genuine  pleasure  and  pride,  that  I  introduce 
to  you,  one,  who  during  her  girl-hood,  was  brave  to 
speak,  write,  and  sing  in  public,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
"boys  in  blue."  Patriotism  and  love  of  truth  wooed 
her  from  a  happy  home  to  labors  of  love  for  the  pub- 
lic weal ;  and  now  on  the  brink  of  womanhood,  she 
consecrates  the  powers  developed  in  her  country's  ser- 
vice, to  her  own  sex,  to  humanity,  and  to  God." 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  127 

When  the  applause  had  subsided,  Marjory's  earnest, 
womanly  tones  were  heard,  as  she  commenced  her 
plea  for  a  purer,  higher  civilization.  As  she  assured 
men  that  this  reform  did  not  mean  antagonism 
between  men  and  women ;  as  she  assured  women  that 
instead  of  taking  women  from  their  homes,  its  aim 
was  to  render  homes  possible  for  all  women,  the  chains 
of  prejudice  were  loosened,  and  people  knew  that 
they  were  listening  to  the  truth. 

When  she  had  uttered  the  concluding  sentence,  and 
the  audience  was  dismissed,  foremost  among  the 
many  who  crowded  towards  the  stage,  for  the  honor 
of  an  introduction,  was  her  "  mortified  "  cousin,  Miss 
Grafton. 

"Why,  Marjory,  lam  delighted!  I  am  proud  of 
you,  child  !  It  did  not  seem  a  particle  bold." 

"  Allow  me  to  say,  Miss  Warner,  that  it  reminded 
me  of  '  Lallah  Rookh,'  of  pearls,  and  fountains," 
exclaimed  a  sentimental  young  rhymester. 

"  And  the  flowers  and  music  were  so  nice,"  chimed 
in  a  little  blue-eyed  doll. 

Miss  Warner,  I  must  say  that  I  enjoyed  your  essay 
very  well,"  acknowledged  a  stately  editor ;  his  man- 
ner indicating  that  if  he  had  spoken  his  real  thoughts, 
he  would  have  added :  "  But  you  had  better  go  home 
to  your  dolls,  '  sissy,'  too  much  thought  is  danger- 
ous to  women." 

Ere  Marjory  could  reply,  a  real,  live  specimen  of 
"  Young  America  "  presented  himself.  Evidently, 
he  thought  his  question  was  to  throw  the  entire 
woman  suffrage  movement  off  the  track.  This  young, 


128  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

downy-lipped  boy,  who  must  have  been  in  the  nur- 
sery during  the  late  war,  inquired  if  "  Miss  Warner 
would  be  willing  to  fight  if  she  could  vote?  " 

Marjory  replied  :  "  My  dear,  little  fellow,  I  must 
answer  you,  as  Mrs.  Stanton  did  a  certain  editor,  one 
of  the  old  Roman  Tribunes,  when  he  arose  one  eve- 
ning in  the  midst  of  one  of  her  lectures,  and  inquired 
if  she  would  take  the  bullet  with  the  ballot—  " 

"Oh!  certainly?  Just  as  you  did  during  the  late 
war,  by  means  of  my  subsitute." 

Young  America  looked  as  though  the  car  of  Pro- 
gress might  roll  over  him,  if  it  wanted  to ;  and  the 
attention  of  the  circle  was  arrested  by  a  good,  moth- 
erly, but  ignorant  woman,  who  grasped  Marjory's 
hand,  at  same  time  asking  her,  "  if  she  really,  did 
write  it  herself?"  Then,  an  earnest,  grey-haired 
clergyman  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  saying, 
"  Daughter,  such  thoughts  must  come  from  a  noble 
soul.  You  have  done  me  good,  and  may  God  bless 
you." 

And  that  repaid  Marjory,  and  sweeter  than  aught 
else,  than  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers,  or  the  liquid, 
musical  notes  was  that  good,  old  man's,  "  God  bless 
you !" 

When  the  young  ladies  observed  how  tenderly 
Gustave  Adair  placed  her  wrappings  around  her,  and 
assisted  her  into  the  carriage,  one,  little,  "  Bright 
Eyes  "  remarked,  "  Girls,  its  all  a  humbug  about  the 
boys  not  liking  strong-minded  women.  I  tell  you, 
they  treat  her  as  though  she  was  an  empress.  If  a 
girl  is  pretty  and  lady-like,  everybody  will  respect 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  129 

her,  and,  the  fact  is,  I  'm  converted.  I  believe  I  have 
just  as  much  right  to  vote,  as  that  little  goose  of  a  fel- 
low, who  asked  Miss  Warner  if  she  could  fight. 
Goodness !  1  could  tumble  him  over  with  my  fan.  I 
think  he  would  do  for  Fanny  Fern's  cemetery  ;  let 's 
go  now  and  cover  him  with  rose-leaves." 

Ah,  little  "  Bright  Eyes,"  you  discovered  the  truth 
at  a  glance.  God  has  made  us  women,  and  wherever 
we  go,  be  it  to  the  polls,  into  the  lyceum,  or  pulpit, 
we  will  take  womanly  accessories  and  reign,  and 
overcome  by  the  power  of  womanhood  alone.  God 
has  made  us  nurses.  The  whole  body-politic  is  sick, 
wounded  and  diseased,  and  poor,  bacheloric  "  Uncle 
Sam "  is  in  despair ;  there  is  need  for  womanly 
patience,  womanly  tenderness  and  care,  and  if  you 
will  only  be  patient,  poor,  wounded,  diseased,  old 
Body-Politic,  womanly  hands  will  attempt  to  restore 
you.  Since  the  mission  of  woman  has  ever  been  that 
of  "  Mercy." 

"  The  mission  of  woman— borne  to  nurse, 
To  soothe  and  to  solace,  to  help  and  to  heal 
The  sick  world  that  leans  on  her." 


130  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

"  NOT  FOR  SALE." 

"I  say.no,  no! 

I  tie  up  "  no  "  upon  God's  altar-horns, 
Quite  out  of  reach  of  perjury !    At  least 
My  soul  is  not  a  pauper ;  I  can  live, 
At  least,  my  soul's  life  without  alms  from  men, 
And  if  it  must  be  in  heaven  instead  of  earth, 
Let  heaven  look  to  it, — I  am  not  afraid. 

"  Farewell !    And  since  help 
Must  come  to  me  from  those  who  love  me  not, 
Farewell!  all  helpers;  I  must  help  myself, 
And  am  alone  from  henceforth. 

If  I  married  him 

I  would  not  dare  to  call  my  soul  my  own, 
Which  so  he  had  bought  and  paid  for." 

Two  summers  have  come  and  gone.  Twice  have 
the  dear,  old  apple  trees  blushed  into  beauty  and 
blossoms ;  twice  have  the  birds  made  their  nests,  and 
our  friends,  Winthrop  and  Marjony,  greeted  their 
birthdays.  Both  have  performed  faithful,  honest 
labor;  both  have  achieved  fame;  and  yet  both  of 
them  are  fully  conscious  that  something  is  needed  to 
render  their  lives  complete.  Not  yet  have  they 
tasted  the  pure  vine  of  life. 

Winthrop  Wright  has  become  a  successful  journalist, 
and  is  the  editor  and  proprietor  of  a  most  popular 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  13  I 

journal.  To-day  he  is  seated  in  his  pleasant  sanctum ; 
handsome,  courted  by  women,  admired  by  mothers, 
and  envied  by  men,  he  is  yet  dissatisfied  and  unhappy. 
He  has  a  warm,  loving  heart,  and,  as  yet,  he  has 
found  no  home  for  it ;  and  on  this  bright  day,  he  feels 
himself  to  be  a  veritable  orphan.  This  morning, 
especially,  has  been  freighted  with  memories  of  out- 
lived pleasures,  and  some  little  sprite  has  been  con- 
tinually whispering  to  him,  "you  have  made  a 
mistake — a  mistake — mistake."  He  holds  in  his 
hand  a  copy  of  Marjory's  book.  He  has  been  writing 
a  review  of  it,  and  as  he  carefully  notes  the  contents, 
as  he  reads  the  beautiful  truths,  and  interprets,  for  the 
first  time,  her  strong,  brave,  tender,  loving,  womanly 
soul,  he  seerns  to  realize  that  when  he  talked  of  friend- 
ship to  her,  and  endeavored  to  suppress  his  love,  that 
he  put  a  flaming  sword  to  ward  off  the  angel  of  his 
life.  Again  and  again,  he  reads  some  of  the  best 
passages,  and  then  putting  the  little  volume  aside,  he 
congratulates  himself  upon  the  fact,  that  he  has  never 
loved  any  other  woman ;  and  he  now  determines  to 
ignore  all  prejudice,  to  bid  her  write,  lecture  or  preach, 
— to  perform  her  entire  duty — and  yet  to  accept  his 
love ;  to  be  his  wife. 

He  has  yet  to  learn  that  a  rare  gift  once  refused,  is 
seldom  attainable  afterward.  Well  may  he  fear,  for 
at  this  very  hour,  the  elegant,  wealthy  Gustave 
Adair,  is  telling  Marjory  of  his  love  for  her;  telling 
her  that  his  physicians  have  told  him  that  he  could 
not  live  many  months,  and  pleading  with  her  to  bless 
and  glorify  the  remainder  of  his  life ;  and,  as  Marjory 


132  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

hesitates,  while  endeavoring  to  couch  her  refusal  in 
the  kindest  words,  he  almost  crushes  her  little  hands 
as,  taking  them  in  his  own,  he  says,  "  Oh !  my 
darling,  I  cannot  give  you  up.  Just  for  a  little  time 
devote  yourself  to  me,  even  if  you  do  not  feel  assured 
that  you  love  me  as  a  wife  should  love  her  husband. 
Yet,  be  my  wife ;  learn  to  love  me,  and  be  to  me  as  a 
precious  sister.  You  do  not  know  how  much  I  need 
you.  I  shall  be  better  prepared  for  heaven  after  look- 
ing into  your  soulfull  eyes,  and  listening  to  your  pure 
words.  I  believe  that  the  good  Father  above  will 
bless  such  a  labor  of  love." 

That  was  Marjory's  temptation.  Pride  whispered, 
"  think  how  you  can  triumph  over  the  uncharitable 
women  who  have  repeatedly  assured  you  that  you 
must  be  an  old  maid  ;  that  no  man  would  ever  marry 
a  woman  who  had  traveled  over  the  country  lectur- 
ing." Charity  said,  "  only  think  how  much  good 
you  could  do  with  the  vast  wealth  you  would  inherit 
as  his  widow ;  you  admire  and  respect  him,  you  can 
render  the  remainder  of  his  life  so  happy,  and  then 
you  can  place  your  mother  and  brother,  and  little 
Christine  in  a  luxurious  home,  surround  them  with 
every  comfort,  and  make  life  so  beautifal  for  them." 
But  after  all  these  suggestions,  she  resorted  to  the 
great  test  question,  "  would  it  be  right?  "  Her  true, 
woman  soul  beat  back  an  earnest,  t!  no ; "  and  after 
remaining  silent  for  a  few  moments,  she  laid  her 
hand  tenderly  upon  Mr.  Adair's  shoulder,  looked 
calmly  into  his  eyes,  and  then  gave  him  this  answer : 

"  Gustave,  you  have  been  a  kind,  true  friend  to  me; 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  133 

I  gladly  accept  the  brother-love  that  you  offer,  and, 
God  helping  me  I  will  be  to  you  a  true  sister,  but  I 
cannot  be  your  wife.  I  believe  marriage  to  be  a 
sacred  ordinance  from  God  ;  and  I  would  not  dare,  I 
could  not  perjure  my  womanhood  by  going  to  the 
altar  and  promising  to  love,  when  my  soul  denied  the 
declaration.  You  have  shown  yourself  to  be  fearless 
and  brave,  in  ignoring  the  prejudice  of  friends,  and 
asking  as  self-reliant,  and  independent  a  woman  as  I 
have  been,  to  be  your  wife.  I  greet,  and  accept  your 
brother-love,  eagerly  and  gladly.  Now  listen ;  you 
shall  come  right  into  our  cosy  home,  and  my  good 
mother  will  treat  you  as  a  son,  and  1  will  be  a  true 
sister  to  you." 

Mr.  Adair  seemed  disappointed  and  sad,  as  he  re- 
plied, a  mournful  pathos  thrilling  his  voice:  "Mar- 
jory, you  forget  that  we  live  in  a  very  tyrannical 
world,  and  that  your  proposed  plan  would  call  down 
upon  you  the  gossip  of  the  village." 

"  At  times  I  fear  that  I  care  too  little  for  the 
world's  opinion  so  long  as  I  know  my  motives  are 
pure.  God  seems  to  have  decreed  that  I  should  be  an 
Ishmaelite  among  women.  I  have  always  been  mis- 
understood, always  the  subject  of  gossip,  but  never, 
that  I  know  of,  basely  slandered. 

"  I  recognize  the  existence  of  a  pure,  true  friend- 
ship, based  upon  congenial  tastes  and  aims,  neither 
prompted  by,  nor  subsisting  on  ulterior  motives.  The 
world  deems  such  friendship,  visionary,  platonic;  it 
cannot,  and  does  not,  recognize  its  existence. 

"  To  me,  the  girl  who  deliberately  sells  herself  at 


1 34  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

the  altar  for  money,  position,  or  home,  is  as  guilty 
before  a  pure  God,  as  she  who  falls  through  love.  Yet 
the  world  applauds  the  former,  and  condemns  the  lat- 
ter. 

"  My  mother's  fame  and  name  are  as  pure  as  snow  ; 
then  why  may  you  not  make  your  home  with  us  for 
a  time,  thus  conferring  upon  us  the  privilege  of  allevi- 
ating your  sufferings  ?  There  can  never  be  real  free- 
dom for  woman,  until  the  world  recognizes  that  a 
true,  pure  woman  may  be  trusted  anywhere,  under  all 
circumstances,  and  that  excessive  prudery  is  neither 
essential  to,  nor  always  indicate  of  virtue. 

"  It  really  saddens  me  when  I  think  of  the  vast 
amount  of  womanly  charity  and  kindness,  the  world 
is  deprived  of  because  of  the  manacles  of  women. 
Suppress  your  words  of  friendship  ;  speak  not  your 
true  words  of  love  and  faith,  says  custom  ;  keep  silent 
in  our  churches,  proclaim  from  their  pulpits  our 
Christian  ministers. 

"  Slay  at  home ;  home  is  the  place  for  woman  ;  set 
at  home  in  supreme  idleness ;  if  you  have  nothing  to 
do,  sleep  your  life  away,  and  gain  the  reputation  of 
being  a  '  good  woman  and  so  domestic,'  rather  than  to 
go  into  your  husband's  office,  or  store  to  assist  him  in 
his  weary  tasks.  Oh !  my  friend,  when  I  reflect  upon 
the  inconsistences  of  our  world  of  customs,  I  am  thank- 
ful this  world  and  I  are  at  variance  with  each  other. 

"  My  entire  life  has  been  passed  in  this  village.  The 
people  here  have  known  me  from  babyhood,  and  if  my 
character  is  not  sufficiently  known,  to  admit  of  my 
taking  care,  with  impunity,  of  an  invalid,  who  comes 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  135 

to  my  mother's  home  for  care  and  comforts,  then  I  do 
not  think  reputation  amounts  to  much.  I  would  pre- 
fer to  do  some  good  in  the  world,  even  though  I  be 
misunderstood  and  misjudged,  than  to  receive  ap- 
plause of  the  world  bestowed  upon  a  selfish,  aimless 
life.  God  knows,  and  He  will  send  the  benediction 
more  blessed  than  all  others,  5  She  hath  done  what 
she  could.' " 

At  first,  Mr.  Adair  declared  himself  to  be  unwilling 
to  remain  and  subject  Marjory  to  the  gossip  of  the 
villagers,  but  as  the  hours  passed,  the  persuasions  of 
Mrs.  Warner,  and  the  pretty  prattle  of  Christine, 
caused  him  to  yield  a  little,  and  to  his  weary  mind 
and  body  this  peaceful,  quiet  home'  seemed  so  like  a 
little  heaven  that  he  lingered  in  it,  day  after  day. 
Tenderly  as  a  mother,  Marjory  cared  for  him,  devot- 
ing her  energies  and  talents  to  his  entertainment, 
reading,  writing,  and  singing ;  deeming  the  sacrifice 
of  her  valuable  time  as  nothing,  when  compared  with 
the  fact  that  she  was  rendering  the  last  days  of  her 
friend's  life  happier,  better,  and  purer.  And  happy 
would  it  be  for  all  women,  could  they  render  such 
acceptable  service  to  the  men  who  love  them. 

During  these  days,  Winthrop  had  looked  into  his 
own  soul  and  discovered  that  none  other  than  Mar- 
jory's had  ever  been,  or  could  be  its  queen ;  and 
as  "Rornney  "  wrote  to  "  Aurora,"  so  he  decided  to 
say  to  her,  "Write  woman's  verses,  and  dream 
woman's  dreams,  but  bloom  out  your  youth  beside 
me,  be  my  wife."  Aye,  more  he  had  decided  to  say : 
"Speak,  your  brave  womanly  thoughts,  not  only  to 


136  Out  of  Her  Sph&re. 

the  public,  but  to  me,  in  private,  and  teach  me  the 
nobility  of  complete,  educated,  Christian  woman- 
hood." 

Ah  !  Winthrop,  you  have  made  a  brave,  and  wise 
decision,  but  you  have  a  sad  lesson  to  learn.  It  is 
this :  That  if  we  once  blindly  refuse  a  rare  gift,  it  is 
seldom  attainable  afterwards. 

One  bright,  beautiful  morning,  our  editor  bade 
good-bye  to  his  sanctum,  placed  his  paper  in  the  care 
of  "the  Local,"  and  with  confident  hope,  commenced 
his  journey  to  the  village  in  which  Marjory  lived. 
She  too,  enjoyed  the  beautiful  morning,  and  its  beauty 
and  brightness  seemed  tangled  in  her  voice,  as  she 
went  singing  through  the  house  right  merrily,  as  if 
some  bird,  or  sprite,  had  whispered  to  her  of  the  com- 
ing of  her  lover.  Marjory  was  unusually  happy  at 
home,  and  Winthrop  was  buoyant  with  love  and 
hope,  and  discovered  not  the  attendant  inexorable 
fate,  e'en  now  ready  to  ward  off  the  blessing. 
Patience,  beloved,  since  it  seems  to  be  God's  plan  to 
purify  his  co-laborers,  through  suffering. 

Winthrop  looked  from  the  car  window,  as  they 
were  whirled  through  scenes  of  beauty  and  of  rough- 
ness ;  gliding  now  through  a  flower-broidered  meadow, 
and  now,  through  an  untidy  back-yard,  and  saw 
nothing.  He  was  lost  in  a  day-dream,  when  he  was 
suddenly  remanded  to  earth  by  the  rasping  voice  of 
one,  Miss  Mehitable  Green,  who  wished  to  know  "  if 
he  had  any  objections  to  her  taking  a  seat  beside 
him?"  at  the  same  time  seating  herself  before  he  had 
time  to  reply. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  137 

Miss  Mehitable  had  a  tongue,  and  was  altogether 
industrious  in  its  use — and  so  she  commenced  her  task 
with  the  inquiry  :  "  Traveling  far  sir  ?  " 

"  No,  madam,  only  to  the  next  station." 

"  Why,  that's  my  stopping  place,  too.  I've  lived 
there  all  my  life.  Do  you  intend  to  stay  long  ?  " 

"  Only  a  few  days." 

"  Oh !  going  on  business,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  No,  I  am  intending  to  visit  an  old  college  friend 
of  mine — Mr,  Warner.  Do  you  know  his  family, 
and  can  you  tell  me  if  they  are  at  home,  and  well  ?  " 

"Mr.  WTarner  must  be  a  very  popular  young  man. 
It  does  beat  all,  the  number  of  young  men  that  visit 
him  ;  but  somehow  they  always  seem  to  visit  a  good 
deal  with  his  sister.  One  of  his  friends  is  there  now ; 
— has  been  all  summer,  and  there's  a  great  deal  of  talk 
about  it.  Some  sad,  consumptive,  from  the  city,  and 
Marjory  and  her  mother  just  wait  on  him  like  a  baby. 
At  first  people  did  not  quite  make  out  whether  it  was 
the  mother  or  daughter  he  was  courting,  but  they  are 
pretty  well  decided  now  that  its  Marjory." 

"  Why  doesn't  she  marry  him,  then  ?  " 

"Well,  I  have  heard  it  said  that  his  folks  are 
mighty  'ristocratic,  and  that  they  told  him  he  never 
should  be  recognized  by  the  family  if  he  married  her, 
because  she  is  one  of  the  Woman 's-Bights  lecturers ; 
but  then  I  guess  he  has  some  pride  about  it  himself. 
He  loves  her  though— anybody  can  see  that — he  wont 
scarcely  let  her  be  out  of  his  sight  a  minute ;  and 
she,  why  a  wife  could  n't  be  more  devoted,  and  some 
people  believe  there  has  been  a  secret  marriage." 


138  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

Just  then,  the  long  whistle  sounded,  the  train  began 
to  move  more  slowly  as  it  was  switched  on  to  a  side- 
track to  let  another  train  pass,  and  as  it  passed,  Win- 
throp  swung  himself  on  to  it,  and  was  soon  being 
swiftly  borne  back  to  the  city. 

It  so  happened,  that,  at  this  moment,  Marjory  was 
reading,  and  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  "How  dark  it 
has  grown." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Adair,  "  a  cloud  has  just  passed 
over  the  sun." 

Patience!  patience  little,  hungry  heart:  you  are 
guided  by  Him  who  came  into  the  world  for  its  re- 
demption, and  the  world  knew  Him  not,  and  who 
"  Came  unto  His  own  and  His  own  received  Him  not." 

Winthrop  returned  to  his  sanctum,  wrote  cynical, 
severe  editorials;  frequented  the  theatre  and  opera; 
paid  arduous  attention  to  a  wealthy  belle,  and  was  so 
unlike  himself  that  his  friends  wondered  what  could 
have  produced  such  a  change. 

The  days  came  to  Marjory  freighted  with  bitterness 
and  sadness.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  human  nature  in 
people,  and  Mrs.  Warner  was  but  mortal ;  she  had 
struggled  with  poverty  all  through  life,  and  now  as 
she  became  conscious  of  Mr.  Adair's  wealth  and  real- 
ized what  a  position  Marjory  would  occupy  as  his 
wife,  she  really  became  impatient  of  Marjory's  refu- 
sal to  marry  him.  Other  mothers  spoke  to  her  of 
their  married  daughters  and  grandchildren  in  a  man- 
ner that  piqued  her,  and  at  last  she  commenced  ask- 
ing "  Why  must  my  daughter  make  a  martyr  of  her- 
self? "  Marjory  discovered  her  mother's  thought,  and 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  139 

with  the  discovery  came  the  bitterest  anguish  she  had 
known.  Mr.  Adair  was  constantly  growing  weaker, 
and  consequently  more  exacting,  and  the  days  passed 
wearily  by.  Little  Christine  was  her  only  comfort, 
and  her  sweet  "  Good  morning  my  precious  mamma," 
lightened  the  burden  of  each  day  and  re-echoed  in  her 
ears  like  a  blessing.  One  morning  as  Marjory  loitered 
in  her  room  for  a  little  romp  with  Christine,  there 
sounded  through  the  house,  a  quick,  sudden  scream. 
Mr.  Adair  had  ruptured  a  blood  vessel,  and  in  a  few 
moments  life  was  extinct.  Then  the  cottage  home 
was  the  scene  of  sorrow.  His  friends  from  the  dis- 
tant city  were  summoned,  and  e'en  in  the  first  sur- 
prise of  grief,  remembered  to  be  grateful  to  her  who 
had  been  so  faithful  to  the  dearly  loved  brother. 
They  insisted  so  perseveringly  that  Marjory  should 
accompany  them  on  their  sad  journey  back  to  the 
city,  that  she  could  not  resist,  and  so,  all  uncon- 
sciously added  fuel  to  the  gossip  fires  already  kindled. 
There  was  an  imposing  funeral,  and,  after  the  last 
honors  had  been  paid  to  the  dead,  the  family  assem- 
bled and  the  will  was  read.  Mr.  Adair  had  recently 
become  an  orphan,  and  his  only  heirs  were  two  sis- 
ters and  a  brother,  and  they  were  wealthy ;  to  them 
he  bequeathed  a  generous  amount,  but,  to  his  adopted 
sister  Marjory  Warner,  he  left  the  larger  part  of  his 
fortune. 

Here,  was  an  item  for  the  omnivorous  newspapers. 
Soon  the  civilized,  American  world,  was  apprised  of 
the  fact,  that  the  wealthy  Gustave  Adair,  just  deceased, 
was  engaged  to  the  brilliant,  young  lecturess, 


140  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

Marjory  Warner.  Many  young  "  locals,"  who  were 
opposed  to  "  women  who  lecture,"  adding  to  the 
announcement  such  facetious  remarks,  as  "  the  gentle- 
man is  dead ;  fortunate  man,  he  has  made  a  lucky 
escape — between  two  evils  he  has  chosen  the  least,  &c." 
Could  the  good,  philanthropic  gentlemen  who  conduct 
many  of  our  popular  journals,  realize  how  much  real 
heart-ache  is  caused,  and  often  real  injury  inflicted  by 
the  column  of  "  personals,"  they  would  see  to  it  that 
the  selections  were  made  by  true  gentlemen — men 
worthy  to  be  classed  among  the  representatives  of  the 
press.  Believing  in  the  wonderful  power  of  our  free 
press,  we  yet  hope  to  see  the  day  when,  at  the  head  of 
every  column  and  every  article,  the  editor's  or 
writer's  name  shall  appear.  We  have  a  free  press 
now,  but  not  until  individuals  are  made  as  responsible 
for  the  words  they  put  in  print,  as  for  the  words  they 
speak,  will  we  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a  purified  press. 
And  especially  should  the  reading  public  demand  that 
if  any  journal  reports  the  proceedings  of  any  meeting, 
speech,  or  lecture,  that  such  proceedings,  speech  or 
lecture,  be  reported  correctly.  When  we  think  of  the 
many,  gifted  and  good  men  who  have  devoted  their 
lives  to  journalism,  it  is  with  real  sorrow  that  we  hear 
good  people  declare  that  they  have  long  since  learned 
to  doubt  everything  published  in  a  newspaper. 

Such  have  been  the  accounts  published  of  many 
prominent  advocates  of  woman  suffrage,  that  we  have 
heard  persons  express  the  greatest  surprise  at  dis- 
covering them  to  be  womanly  women  in  womanly 
attire.  And  yet,  when  we  remember  the  courtesy, 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  141 

kindness,  and  genuine  assistance  rendered  the  cause 
by  some  of  "  the  knighte  of  the  quill,"  we  long  to  tilt 
a  lance  in  their  favor,  rather  than  point  out  the 
defects  in  their  mode  of  warfare. 

Oh !  brave  knights,  humanity  is  so  weak  and 
selfish,  do  not  stoop  to  please  its  vitiated  tastes,  but 
fling  a  pure,  white  ensign  to  the  breeze,  and  draw 
the  minds  and  imaginations  of  our  people  up  towards 
the  pure,  sun-lighted  hills  of  truth. 

One  morning  Marjory  chanced  upon  one  of  these 
impertinent  personals,  and  as  she  thought  of  the 
friends  who  would  read  and  believe,  she  realized  more 
fully  than  ever,  how  utterly  she  had  been  misun- 
derstood, and  how  wrongfully  she  had  been  judged. 
The  tears  would  come,  and  little  Christine  found 
her  weeping  bitterly,  and  twining  her  little  arms 
about  her,  she  begged  to  know  the  cause. 

Marjory  pointed  to  the  newspapers,  and  said,  "  Oh, 
it  hurts  mamma  darling,  to  have  her  sorrow  and 
trouble  made  so  conspicuous." 

That  evening  as  little  Christine  was  lying  in  bed, 
watching  her  "  little  mamma"  who  sat  at  the  table 
writing,  she  suddenly  queried,  "  mamma,  aint  that 
nice  Mr.  Winthrop  a  newspaper  man?" 

"  Yes,  Birdie ;  but  why  do  you  ask  that  ?" 

"  Oh,  for  nothing  much— just  cause." 

Some  days  after  this  conversation  occurred,  Win- 
throp smiled  with  curiosity,  as  he  discovered  among 
his  morning  mail,  a  letter  addressed  to  "  Good  Mr. 
Wright,  the  newspaper  man."  Opening  it  he  discov- 
ered a  letter  from  Christine;  said  letter  being  the 


14'2  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

exponent  of  an  idea  which  occurred  to  her  that  sleep- 
less evening.  We  quote  it,  giving  the  meaning  not 
the  orthography  :— 

"  DEAR  MR.  WRIGHT  :— My  little  mamma  cried  like 
everything  the  other  day,  because  one  of  the  bad 
newspaper  men  said  she  would  have  married  uncle 
Gus.,  if  he  hadn't  died.  Now  I  know  she  wouldn't, 
cause  I  heard  her  tell  him  so.  They  did  n't  know  I 
heard  though.  She  said  she  did  n't  love  him  quite  good 
enough ;  but  she  would  be  his  sister ;  and  she  was. 
He  used  to  be  pretty  cross  though,  and  I  heard  him 
scold  once  cause  she  would  always  wear  that  pretty 
locket  you  gave  her  with  your  picture  in  it.  Uncle 
Gus  gave  her  one  that  was  prettier,  but  she  always 
wears  yours.  I  think  she  likes  you  best,  'cause  some- 
times she  talks  about  you  in  her  sleep. 

"Now,  you   make   newspapers,  too,  don't  you? 
Well,  you  just  tell  them  other  men,  that  she  would  n't 
marry  him,  and  that  she  is  the  goodest  little  mamma 
in  the  world,  and  I  will  always  love  you. 
Your  little  friend, 

CHRISTINE." 

"Curse  that  gossiping  woman,  and  bless  little 
Christine.  What  sad,  lonely  days  these  must  have 
been  to  Marjory ;  I  will  go  to  her  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow!"  said  Winthrop ;  "  not  to-morrow !" 
re-echoed  his  "Nemesis."  While  he  sat  in  his  quiet 
sanctum,  planning  for  that  same  to-morrow,  the  in- 
terposing fate  was  at  work ;  the  chandelier  came 
crashing  on  to  the  table,  and  Winthrop's  plans  were 
all  forgotten  in  the  pain  of  a  broken  arm.  Many  days 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  143 

elapsed  ere  he  was  able  to  visit  the  cottage,  which  had 
become  the  Mecca  of  his  hope.  At  last  his  desire  was 
accomplished.  The  journey  had  been  made  in  safety, 
no  talkative  gossip  had  discouraged  or  dissuaded  him. 
He  stood  near  the  window  of  his  room  in  the  hotel, 
from  whence  he  could  distinctly  see  the  cottage  home 
of  the  "  Angel  of  his  future."  His  whole  soul  hun- 
gering and  yearning  for  the  companionship  of  the 
woman  he  loved. 

Summoning  a  boy,  he  sent  a  note  to  Marjory,  ask- 
ing when  he  could  see  her,  and  begging  her  to  name 
the  earliest  possible  moment. 

He  watched  the  boy  as  he  frisked  down  the  street, 
and  longed  to  shake  the  young  urchin  when  he 
loitered  to  shoot  a  marble,  or  trundle  a  stick  along  a 
fence,  for  the  evident  purpose  of  irritating  a  cross  dog. 
At  last  the  boy  reached  the  cottage,  and  Winthrop 
thought  he  would  yield  almost  anything  just  to  see 
how  Marjory  looked  when  she  received  his  message. 

If  that  boy  seemed  slow  as  a  turtle  in  going,  he  ap- 
peared a  veritable  snail  on  his  return  ;  and  never,  so 
it  appeared  to  our  impatient  hero,  did  so  many  things 
happen  to  lead  a  boy  into  temptation.  First,  there 
was  an  organ-grinder  with  a  monkey,  then  a  circus 
cavalcade,  and  last  of  all  a  dog  fight ;  and  what  mor- 
tal boy  could  walk  straight  onward  when  beset  by 
such  temptations  as  these  ? 

At  last,  however,  he  returned  to  the  hotel  and 
placed  in  Winthrop's  hand  a  note.  Alas !  it  was  the 
very  same  one  he  had  taken  with  him ;  unopened 
too.  What  could  it  mean  ?  A  single  sentence  written 


Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

on  the  margin  of  the  envelope  gave  the  explanation. 
"Miss  Warner,  accompanied  by  her  brother  and 
adopted  daughter,  had  sailed  for  Europe  just  one  week 
since." 

The  change  from  hope  to  disappointment  was  so 
swift  and  sudden,  and  Winthrop  was  so  entirely  un- 
prepared for  such  an  announcement,  that  he  seemed 
powerless  to  summon  courage  to  meet  it,  and  so 
bowed  his  head  and  sobbed  aloud.  Then  in  a  few 
moments  the  strong  man  kneeled  in  prayer,  and 
poured  out  his  soul  in  earnest  request  to  God,  that 
He  would  guard  his  loved  one,  and  guide  her  back  to 
him. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  145 


CHAPTER    XX. 

DRIFTING. 

"  Get  leaTe  to  work 
In  this  world,  'tis  the  best  you  get  all ; 
For  God,  In  cursing,  gives  us  better  gifts, 
Than  men  in  benediction." 

Marjory  is  in  Europe.  Her  day  dream  is  being 
realized.  Everything  seems  to  conspire  to  promote 
her  comfort  and  pleasure,  and  yet,  even  in  "  Italia, 
the  peerless;"  in  acient  Borne;  in  the  beautiful, 
brilliant,  intoxicating  capitol  of  the  French ;  when 
floating  down  the  Rhine,  or  loitering  amid  the 
galleries  of  art:  everywhere,  she  is  conscious  of 
incomplete  enjoyment.  The  music  is  very  sweet, 
but  it  is  imperfect,  because  of  the  absence  of  a  tone. 
Everywhere,  and  at  all  times,  she  longs  for  the  con- 
g3nial  companionship  of  her  friend  Winthrop,  since 
these  are  the  very  scenes  of  which  they  had  so  often 
read,  and  which  they  had  talked  of  visiting  together. 

She  wanders  through  Borne,  and  constantly  recalls 
the  beautiful  evenings  when  they  first  visited  the 
"  eternal  city,"  in  imagination,  guided  by  the  most 
graceful  of  all  guides,  Hawthorne's  bewitching  "  Mar- 
ble Faun,"  She  loiters  on  the  "  banks  and  brae's  of 
bonnie  Scotland,"  and  wishes  that  some  friend  was 
present  to  make  good  his  promise,  of  sometime 
10 


146     <  ,          Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

jv~*c&y 

Crating  "Tarn  O'Shanter,"  to  her,  at  the  very  scenie 
of  the  wild  ride,  Little  Christine  did  not  realize 
what  a  trial  she  imposed  upon  her  "little  mamma," 
when  she  asked  for  that  same  weird  poem. 

But  the  "  Holy  Land  "  was  the  Mecca  of  Marjory's 
thought;  and  so,  leaving  Christine  in  a  good  school, 
she,  accompanied  by  her  brother,  set  her  face  towards 
the  sacred  spots  of  the  Orient.  There  she  discovered 
that  our  missionaries  were  not  allowed  to  teach 
their  religion  to  women;  when  she  saw  that  in 
Mohammedan  countries,  women  were  not  allowed  to 
enter  the  chvrches,  she  realized  more  fully  than  ever 
what  the  Christian  religion  had  done  for  women, 
despite  the  false  interpreters  who  would  have  us 
believe,  that  women  are  more  devoted  to  the  customs 
and  forms  of  society,  than  they  are  to  the  Giver  of  all 
good  gifts,  who  will  demand  of  every  one  a  strict 
account  for  the  talents  committed  to  their  care. 

Back  from  the  Holy  Land,  into  the  gay  capitals  of 
France  and  England  where  she  was  presented  at 
court,  and  where  she  learned  yet  other  lessons.  Here 
she  observed  that  if  a  woman  be  of  noble  lineage,  she 
may  be  placed  on  the  proudest  thrones  of  the  world. 
She  learned  that  she  may  become  an  abbess,  a  coun- 
tess, a  queen.  Such  a  premium  is  put  upon  feminine 
aristocracy.  As  Henry  Ward  Beecher  says :  "  It  is 
only  woman  without  a  title,  that  must  have  no  privil- 
eges. Woman,  in  her  own  simple  self,  with  nothing 
but  what  God  gives  her,  plain,  democratic  woman,  is 
not  deemed  worthy  of  honor  and  publicity.  With  a 
crown  upon  her  brow  she  may  enter  parliaments  and 


Out  of  Her  Sphere,  147 

govern  empires.  With  only  her  own  simple,  personal 
virtues,  she  may  not  lift  up  her  hand  to  cast  a  vote. 
If  she  represents  a  power,  a  State,  an  art,  a  class,  if 
she  only  stands  upon  an  aristocratic  basis  she  is  in- 
dulged." Marjory,  as  a  Christian  democrat,  asserted 
for  her  every  right  and  every  privilege  that  aristoc- 
racy accorded  her. 

She  remembered  that  in  the  Republic  of  Amer- 
ica, women  were  more  utterly  ignored  than  in  the 
monarchies  of  the  old  world.  She  pondered  upon 
these  things,  and  treasured  them  p  her  heart ;  mean- 
while her  beautiful  face,  beautiful  with  a  pure  expres- 
sion, and  her  graceful  manner  attracted  much  atten- 
tion, and  she  became  known  as  the  "  beautiful 
American."  Her  rare  conversational  powers  and  her 
independent  ideas,  attracted  many  to  her  through 
curiosity.  These  she  speedily  won  for  friends  and 
soon  became  quite  the  lion  of  the  hour.  Alas !  such  a 
strange  mystery  is  the  heart.  Often  she  would  linger 
in  her  room,  indifferent  to  the  rare  floral  offerings  of 
friends  or  would-be  lovers,  meanwhile  thinking  of 
ftome  little  compliment  paid  her  in  the  morning  paper, 
and  wondering  if  that  little  item  would  find  its  way 
into  a  certain  "  sanctum"  over  the  waters.  And  yet 
the  days  were  far  from  sad,  with  so  much  to  be  enjoyed, 
and  so  much  information  to  be  gained,  meanwhile 
retaining  her  desire  to  preach,  and  ever  confident  that 
in  some  manner  she  would  find  her  pulpit.  She 
endeavored  to  perform  the  duties  of  each  successive 
day,  faithfully  and  cheerfully,  and  left  the  result  with 
God. 


148  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 


OHAPTEE    XXI. 

MOTHER  AND  CHILD. 

"I'm  dead,  I  say, 

And  if  to  save  the  child  from  death  as  well 
The  mother  in  me  has  survived  the  rest, 
Why,  that 's  God's  miracle,  you  must  not  tax. 

I'm  nothing  more 
Bu  tjtul  a  mother. 

*  *  *  * 

If  they  talk  of  law, 

I  talk  of  law.    I  claim  my  mother  dues 
By  law— the  law  which  now  is  paramount." 

TRENTON,  NEW  JERSEY. 

MY  DEAR  MAE JORY  :— During  the  years  which 
have  passed  since  our  merry  party  passed  the  holi- 
days so  cherrily  in  that  delightful  home  at  Washing- 
ton, strange  changes  have  been  effected  in  our  lives. 
And  now,  you,  courted  and  admired  in  the  court 
circles  of  Europe,  may  stop  to  wonder  who  it  is  that 
thus  intrudes  upon  your  pleasure,  and  for  the  sake  of 
lang  syne  asks  you  to  listen  to  her  sad  story.  For  it 
is  a  story  full  of  sadness,  and  I  had  almost  said  crime, 
for  by  bitter  experience  I  have  learned  that  it  is  a 
crime  for  a  girl  to  sell  herself  for  money  and  home. 
And  that  was  what  I  did  when  I  became  the  wife  of 
Warren  Huntington;  my  heart  was  wholly  another's, 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  149 

but  that  other  one  was  poor,  and  I  sold  myself  for 
gold. 

The  world  thought  I  had  done  well ;  and  for  a  time 
I  almost  convinced  myself  that  I  had.  I  had  all  my 
life  been  proud  and  poor,  and  I  enjoyed  the  luxury  of 
my  husband's  home ;  was  proud  as  a  child  of  my  new 
jewels  and  laces,  and  luxuriated  among  the  cushions 
of  my  carriage,  and  really  enjoyed  my  position.  But 
it  all  became  a  perfect  mockery.  After  a  time  suffer- 
ing and  sickness  came;  my  babies  were  born,  and  I 
almost  hated  their  father.  He  discovered  that  I  did 
not  love  him,  and  for  a  time  seemed  crushed  and 
broken-hearted.  But  as  he  realized  how  deceitful  I 
had  been,  his  love  seemed  turned  to  hate ;  and  for 
years  our  home  was  horrible.  Now  I  am  a  Widow. 
My  husband's  will  has  been  read,  and  I  find  that  I  am 
not  only  penniless  and  a  widow,  but  almost  childless, 
for  he  has  willed  my  youngest  baby,  my  only  boy, 
and  my  idol,  to  the  guardianship  of  his  parents,  liv- 
ing i  n  Scotland.  And,  oh  !  Marjory,  the  courts  have 
decided  that  the  will  is  legal.  The  law  must  be  vin- 
dicated, though  it  gives  a  dead  father  more  power 
over  the  child,  than  the  living  mother.  But  they  shall 
never  have  my  child!  I  believe  I  would  rather  take 
my  children  and  go  to  God  to  answer  for  the  crime  of 
suicide,  than  to  leave  the  little  baby  which  I  have 
brought  into  the  world,  to  /the  care  of  strangers. 
Now,  in  my  agony.  I  turn  to  you  as  the  friend  of 
woman,  and  ask  you  to  help  me.  In  order  to  deceive 
these  dispensers  of  justice,  I  shall  make  no  show  of 
resistance,  but  take  passage  for  Europe.  I  want  to 


150  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

come  to  you,  and  with  your  help,  find  a  hiding  place, 
if  there  be  a  spot  on  this  great  earth  where  a  mother 
has  a  right  to  the  child  of  her  own  blood.  Oh  !  now, 
I  see  that  there  is  need  for  the  work  you  are  doing, 
and  I  pray  God  to  forgive  me  for  my  blindness  and 
selfishness.  Oh  !  Marjory,  as  you  would  be  done  by, 
do  by  me,  and  in  mercy  help  me. 

Yours,  anxiously, 

MAUDE  HUNTINGTON. 

"  Shame,  shame,  that  such  things  are,"  exclaimed 
Marjory,  as  she  read  this  letter  which  was  safely  borne 
to  her  across  continent  and  ocean,  reaching  her  as  she 
sat  at  breakfast  in  a  little  chalet  among  the  mountains 
of  Switzerland.  And  its  safe  progress  reminds  us  of 
Emerson's  thought  when  he  wrote,  "  Another  success 
is  the  post  office,  with  its  educating  energy,  augmen- 
ted by  cheapness,  and  guarded  by  a  certain  religious 
sentiment  in  mankind,  so  that  the  power  of  a  wafer, 
or  a  drop  of  wax  to  guard  a  letter  as  it  flies  over  sea, 
over  land,  and  comes  to  its  address  as  if  a  battalion 
of  artillery  brought  it,  I  look  upon,  as  a  fine  metre  of 
civilization." 

"  What  is  a  shame,  Marjory  ?  What  so  excites  your 
indignation?" 

"  Read  that  letter,  brother,  and  see.  It  is  about  as 
absurd  for  women  to  talk  about  living  in  a  free  re- 
public, as  it  used  to  be  for  the  slave  on  southern  plan- 
tations to  point  to  our  beautiful  flag  as  the  emblem  of 
freedom." 

"  Take  care !  Why  really,  that  sounds  bitter  and 


Out  of  H&r  Sph&rt.  151 

severe,  very  unlike  your  usual  calm  logic.  You 
surely  do  not  mean  that  American  women  are  slaves 
to  the  extent  the  negroes  were  ?  " 

"  No,  not  in  the  same  way;  but,  although  half  the 
slaves  of  the  south  had  been  treated  well,  and  been 
really  better  cared  for  than  they  would  have  been  in 
a  state  of  freedom,  yet  so  long  as  any  were  bought 
and  sold,  and  whipped,  it  made  slavery  a  terrible 
wrong,  and  as  it  has  proved,  a  fearful  curse.  So  with 
women;  though  three-fourths  of  the  women  of  the 
United  States  were  blessed  with  kind,  generous  hus- 
bands, or  fathers,  and  the  remaining  one-fourth  are 
deprived  of  their  earnings,  if  a  drunken  husband 
choose  to  collect  them ;  if  they  are  underpaid,  and  if 
they  do  not  possess  the  same  rights  to  their  own 
property,  and  above  all,  equal,  if  not  greater  claim  to 
their  own  children,  as  do  men,  then  the  government  is 
a  tyrannical  one  for  them." 

"  But  this  law  from  which  your  friend  is  now  suffer- 
ing is  not  a  law  of  many  of  the  States ;  only  a  very 
few." 

"  If  it  was  the  law  of  but  one  State,  or  one  county  in 
the  Union,  it  should  excite  the  indignation  of  every 
mother  throughout  the  land.  Even  in  Boston,  not 
six  months  since,  in  the  courts  of  that  most  progres- 
sive city  of  intellect  and  wealth,  a  similar  case  was 
tried ;  the  Judge  decided  in  the  dead  man's  favor,  and 
the  children  were  taken  forcibly  from  the  arms  of  the 
mother,  by  the  officers,  in  the  court-room." 

"  Well,  what  will  you  do  in  this  case ;  assist  your 
friend  to  evade  the  law  ?" 


152  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

"  Certainly,  just  as  I  would  have  assisted  a  fugitive, 
slave-mother,  flying  from  those  who  would  sell  her." 

"  Of  course  you  will ;  true  woman  that  you  are,  and 
I  will  be  only  too  glad  to  help  you." 

A  few  months  after  this  Maude  Huntington  found 
a  comfortable  home  in  a  little  chalet,  nestled  among 
the  mountains  of  Switzerland.  There,  in  the  society 
of  her  children  and  nature,  chastened  already  by  suf- 
fering, she  developed  into  a  nobler,  more  unselfish 
woman.  Living  in  exile  a  year  or  two,  she  accident- 
ally heard  of  the  death  of  the  grandparents,  who  held 
the  legal  claim  to  her  child,  and  so  she  returned  to 
America,  and  entered  the  lists  of  woman  suffrage  advo- 
cates. She,  by  telling  the  story  of  her  own  wrongs, 
made  more  converts  than  she  could  have  done  by 
eloquent  appeals,  and  unanswerable  logic.  But  we 
anticipate.  Let  us  return  to  Marjory. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  153 


OHAPTEE    XXII. 

LITTLE  CHRISTINE'S  SPHERE. 

"  Back  she  came  from  her  long  hiding  place  at  the  source 
Of  the  sunrise ; 

The  world  came  and  shook  hands,  and  was  pleased  and  amused 
With  what  the  world  then  went  away  and  abused. 
From  the  woman's  fair  fame  it  in  naught  could  detract, 
'Twas  the  woman's  free  genius  it  vex'd  and  attack'd. 
But  its  light,  careless  cavils,  in  truth,  could  not  reach 
The  lone  heart  they  aim'd  at." 

Alas !  why  is  genius  forever  at  strife 

With  the  world,  which,  despite  the  world'c  self,  it  enobles  ? 

"Why  is  it  that  genius  perplexes  and  troubles, 

And  offends  the  effete  life  it  comes  to  renew? 

'Tis  the  terror  of  truth;  'tis  that  genius  is  true. 

"  Wake  up,  mamma !  wake  up !  How  can  you 
sleep  in  this  rackety  place  when  it  is  my  birthday, 
and  when  we  are  going  to  see  grandma  tomorrow? 
Aint  it  nice  to  be  off  of  that  tumbling,  sea-sicky  old 
ship,  too?" 

"  Yes,  Birdie,  so  delightful,  that  I  can  sleep  even  in 
this  '  rackety '  place,  as  you  call  it,  right  here  in 
noisy  New  York;  and  so  you  have  a  birthday,  well, 
what  do  you  expect  your  good  fairy  to  bring  you?" 

"  Why  do  n't  you  know  ?  You  promised  to  write 
me  a  little  poem,  all  for  myself,  all  about  that  time 


154  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

when  you  was  a  little  girl  and  fell  into  the  water, 
talking  to  your  shadow.  Do  n't  you  remember  ?" 

"Oh  !  Christine;  the  idea  of  my  writing  poetry  the 
very  first  day  after  reaching  America.  Can't  you 
excuse  me  to-day  ?" 

"No,  no,  you  said  you  would,  and  I  will  help  you, 
and  it  won't  take  us  long." 

After  breakfast,  Christine  again  reminded  Marjory 
of  her  promise ;  then  placed  her  writing-desk  on  a 
table  before  her,  saying  "  come,  mamma,  it  is  time  to 
begin." 

"  But  you  are  to  help  me,  you  know ;  so  tell  me  how 
to  commence." 

"  Well,  just  say,  how  you  was  sitting  on  the  tree, 
and  how  the  little  shadow  looked,  and  what  you  said 
to  it,  and  how  you  tumbled  in,  and  who  pulled  you 
out— that 's  all." 

"Marjory  laughed  merrily  at  Christine's  sugges- 
tions, and  after  various  attempts,  effected  the  following 
rhyme:" 

THE  LITTLE  BROWN  MAID  AND  HER  SHADOW. 

The  branches  of  a  fallen  tree 

Green  fringed  a  sparkling  stream, 
While  through  the  weird  embroidery 

A  wee,  brown  maid  was  seen ; 
While  her  glad  voice  warbled,  sweet  and  clear, 
Oh  !  come,  little  shadow,  come  here,  come  here. 

I  know  where  you  are,  for  I  see  you  there, 

'Neath  that  pearly  cluster  of  lily-bells, 
With  sunbeams  tangled  amid  the  brown  hair, 

While  your  sweet  eyes  deepen  like  sunny  wells. 
Come  out  from  the  lilies,  and  ferns  and  vines, 
Come,  dance  through  the  water ;  see  how  it  shines. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  155 

O,  saucy  shadow,  tbere  you  are, 

Deep  down  'mid  the  mosses,  and  wild  mint  sweet, 
Your  blue  eyes  twinkling  just  like  stars. 

And  the  sunbeams  dimpling  your  wee,  bare  feet; 
Shadow,  come  near ;  a  secret  for  thee, 
Dimples,  tangles,  and  all— you  're  just  like  me. 

Two  little  bare  feet,  exactly  like  mine — 
Apron  all  torn,  and  but  one  bonnet  string ; 

And  now.  I'll  give  out  a  song,  line  by  line, 
T'">  see  how  nearly  alike  we  can  sing. 


"Why,  shadow !  the  queerest  thing  under  the  sun  ! 

You  open  your  month,  but  the  sing  do  n't  come ; 
I'm  really  afraid  that  you're  deaf  and  dumb, 

Though  you  're  frolicsome,  jolly,  and  brimful  of  fun. 

Somebody's  calling  me— now  do  n't  you  hear? 
You  can't.  I  forgot;  so,  now  kiss  me  good-bye; 

One,  two,  I'm  ready— now  shadow  come  near- 
Wait,  there  goes  a  sunbeam  right  into  your  eye. 

Splash,  goes  the  little,  brown  maid  in  the  stream ; 

All  frightened,  the  shadow  glides  swiftly  away : 
The  forest  resounds  with  the  frightened  child's  scream, 

And  a  farmer-boy's  footsteps  hast'ning  that  way. 

"  Oh!  wee,  bonnie  lassie,  you  've  been  vain  I  fear," 
But  then  'tis  the  way  of  the  world  after  all : 

To  watch  our  own  shadows  when  waters  are  clear, 
Forgetful  that  pride  ever  goes  before  fall. 

And  all  lassies  who  would  true  womanhood  win, 

Avoid  vanity's  breakers  lest  ye  tumble  in. 

"Oh,  mamma,  that  is  just  what  I  wanted.  Thank 
you  ever  so  much ;  and  now  I  will  go  read  it  to 
'  uncle,'  and  then  he  is  going  to  take  me  to  '  Bar- 
num's.' " 

As  Christine  and  "Uncle   Hugh,"  as  she  called 


156  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

Marjory's  brother,  were  wandering  on  their  sight- 
seeing, Christine  conceived  another  idea.  "  Uncle 
Hugh,  does  n't  that  nice  Mr.  Winthrop  live  in  this 
city?" 

"Why,  bless  my  stars!  yes.  I  declare,  I  had 
almost  forgotten  it.  The  fact  is,  I  scarcely  realize  yet 
that  we  are  in  America.  His  office  is  n't  more  than 
two  squares  from  here.  Shall  we  go  to  see  him  ?" 

"Oh!  yes.  I  want  to  see  if  he  will  put  my  little 
poem  in  his  paper." 

Let  us  take  one  more  survey  of  Wiuthrop's  sanc- 
tum. As  usual,  during  business  hours,  he  is  seated  at 
his  table.  Although  some  uncorrected  "  proof"  awaits 
his  criticism,  he  utterly  ignores  it.  No  spicy  edito- 
rial engrosses  his  attention,  but  rather  a  little,  dainty, 
rose-colored  note — written  by  the  wealthy  belle  who 
has  been  evincing  marked  preference  for  the  gifted 
journalist— an  invitation  to  join  a  small,  select  party 
for  a  two  week's  sojourn  among  the  White  Mountains. 

"  To  go,  or  not  to  go ;  that  is  the  question?  Whether 
'tis  nobler  in  the  mind  to  suffer  the  delicate  advances 
of  a  beautiful  woman,  or  to  take  arms  against  the  sea 
of  bacheloric  troubles,  and  in  firm  wedlock,  end 
them." 

"  Well,  well,  Wright,  have  you  turned  Hamlet,  at 
your  turn  of  life  ?  Surely  I  have  a  fine  item  for  the 
morning  papers ; "  exclaimed  a  brother  editor,  who 
was  writing  at  another  table. 

"  The  facts  in  the  case  are  these,— and  mark  you, 
this  is  friendly  confidence,  no  newspaper  item — I  am 
invited  to  join  fair  '  Helen's '  party  to  the  mountains. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  157 

To  go  is  dangerous.  Think  of  her  in  bewitching  wood- 
land costumes,  or  on  horseback,  or  of  floating  with 
her  in  a  boat  just  large  enough  for  two,  and  listening 
to  her  wonderful  voice,  floating  out  over  moonlighted 
water.  She  pleases  my  senses,  and  yet  she  does  not 
satisfy  my  soul — in  fact,  I  never  saw  but  one  woman 
that  did,  and— and  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  What 
is  your  advice?" 

"  Why  go,  of  course.  The  lady  Helen  is  accom- 
plished, beautiful,  and  rich ;  what  more  can  you  ask? 
The  fact  is,  you  are  in  love  with  an  ideal,  and  the 
sooner  you  recognize  the  fact  the  better  it  will  be  for 
you." 

"  Possibly.  At  any  rate  I  need  a  vacation,  and  I 
will  go ;  so  here  goes  my  answer." 

"  But  what  little  sprite,  or  fairy,  have  we  here?" 

Christine  might  have  been  called  a  snow-drop,  in 
her  soft,  white  merino  dress,  edged  with  swan's  down, 
and  her  beautiful  hat,  composed  almost  entirely  of  soft, 
white  feathers.  Fairy,  she  really  was,  since  she  is 
about  to  be  the  means  of  bestowing  on  Winthrop  an 
invaluable  gift.  In  the  years  long  passed  Marjory  had 
guided  little  Christine  out  from  the  darkness  of  pov- 
erty, ignorance,  and  crime,  into  the  beautiful  sunlight 
of  a  Christian  home;  and  now  little  Christine  in  turn 
is  to  be  the  means  of  freighting  her  "  little  mamma's" 
life  with  choicest  blessings. 

"  Well,  really,  Warner,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you, 
and  am  surprised,  too.  I  thought  you  were  so  much 
in  love  with  art  that  you  could  never  be  wooed  from 
the  grand  pictures  of  the  Old  World.  Did  your  sis- 
t  er  return  with  you  ?  " 


]  58  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

"  Oh!  yes;  I  never  could  have  left  her.  You  know 
she  is  my  idol.  But  for  her  perseverance  I  never 
could  have  devoted  myself  to  the  art  I  love  so  well." 

"  And  she  is  my  '  little  mamma,'  Mr.  Winthrop, 
and  I  want  to  show  you  what  she  wrote  for  me  to-day ; 
and  won't  you  please  put  it  in  your  paper,  and  say 
that  it  is  all  true,  too  ?" 

"  Certainly,  pet,  if  your  '  little  mamma'  is  willing; 
but  I  think  I  would  rather  ask  her  permission  first, 
and  so,  if  you  will  let  me,  I  will  go  with  you  right 
now,  and  talk  to  her  about  it." 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  159 


CHAPTEE  XXIII. 

CO-LABORERS. 

"  We  will  measure  the  field  together, 

Where  labor  was  maimed  and  dumb, 
When  shadows  wrought  in  the  farrows  : 
Where  sunshine  at  last  has  come." 

LARAMIE  CITY,  WYOMING  TERRITORY. 
October  1, 1870. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  MARJORY  : — You  have  been  so 
constantly  in  my  thoughts  during  the  past  few  days, 
that  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  writing  to  you  ; 
so  prepare  yourself  for  an  infliction,  for  when  I  do  at- 
tempt to  write  a  letter — which  is  seldom — my  pen 
rushes  on  like  an  eight-day  clock. 

Well,  what  do  you  think  has  happened  ?  Would  you 
believe  it  of  me,  Madge ;  of  me,  who  used  to  declare 
that  if  every  other  woman  in  the  world  voted,  I 
wouldn't?  Well,  I  have  done  that  dreadful  thing. 
In  broad  daylight,  I  took  my  husband's  arm,  walked 
up  to  the  polls,  and  deposited  my  ballot,  and,  Madge, 
nobody  thought  of  insulting  me.  I  was  neither 
crowded  nor  abused,  but  was  presented  with  a  beauti- 
ful bouquet,  and  never  went  anywhere  in  my  life 
where  gentlemen  seemed  to  think  me  worthy  of  more 
consideration.  My  pulse  is  steady,  and  I  feel  as 


160  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

much  like  a  woman,  a  wife  and  mother  as  I  ever  did 
in  my  life.  I  went  home  the  same  day  and  cooked 
dinner,  and  the  coffee  did  not  boil  over,  and  my  salt- 
rising  came  up  as  early  as  usual ;  I  sleep  well,  and 
my  appetite  is  good. 

But  what  do  you  suppose  I  did  with  the  children? 
Of  course,  I  have  left  them  often  to  attend  church  or 
parties,  but  never  before  on  election  day. 

"  Well,  early  this  morning  one  of  my  neighbors 
came  in  and  said,  whenever  I  wished  to  go  down 
street  she  would  take  care  of  my  children.  Her  hus- 
band is  one  of  the  candidates. 

Another  delightful  feature  of  the  day,  was  a  drive 
with  my  husband ;  the  first  I  had  enjoyed  for  a  long 
time.  At  breakfast  he  said,  "  what  time  shall  I  come 
for  you,  Daisy  ?  "  Just  for  fun  I  replied,  "  Oh !  I  guess 
you  need  not  come  at  all;  I  don't  feel  very  well  to- 
day ;  guess  I  am  not  equal  to  the  exertion."  "  Oh  !  if 
that  is  all,  I  will  bring  a  carriage  ;  in  fact  I  think  a 
ride  will  do  you  good,  and  I  am  obliged  to  have  one 
running  anyhow,  as  there  are  several  gentlemen  and 
ladies  that  we  will  be  obliged  to  take  to  the  polls." 
I  was  absent  from  home  two  hours,  and  found  the  chil- 
dren alive  and  well  on  my  return.  Madge,  when 
I  remember  my  old,  ignorant  prejudices,  I  am 
perfectly  ashamed  of  myself.  And,  lo  !  I  have  been 
guilty  of  something  else  than  voting,  I  have  been  on 
a  jury.  And  as  a  wife  and  mother,  I  was  thankful  to 
God  for  an  opportunity  for  assisting  to  indict  saloon 
keepers  and  dance-house  keepers,  and  the  most 
earnest  prayers  of  my  life  were  offered  while  I  was 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  161 

discharging  that,  to  me,  sacred  duty.  You  have 
doubtless  seen  the  published  opinion  of  the  judge,  in 
regard  to  that  same  jury.  I  have  thought  of  you  so 
much,  and  have  longed  to  witness  your  enjoyment  of 
the  fulfillment  of  your  prophecies. 

"  And  now,  dear,  I  will  attempt  to  answer  your 
question  in  regard  to  my  own  happiness ;  and  I  can 
answer  it  much  more  readily  now  than  I  could  one 
year  ago.  When  we  were  first  married  I  was  not 
altogether  happy.  My  husband  was  good  and  kind, 
but  he  was  very  poor,  and  I  did  not  know  how  to 
accept  the  situation,  or  how  to  help  him.  I  felt  that 
I  must  assist  him,  I  wanted  to,  and  so  I  attempted  to 
do  my  own  work  and  take  a  boarder  or  two.  Unfor- 
tunately, household  work,  especially  cooking,  is 
exceedingly  distasteful  to  me.  The  atmosphere  of  a 
kitchen,  where  vegetables  are  being  cooked,  is  sick- 
ening to  me.  I  am  awkward  and  extravagant.  I 
soiled  my  clothes,  burned  my  fingers,  worked  from 
morning  until  night,  accomplishing  but  little,  and 
was  often  cross  and  untidy  when  my  husband  came 
home  at  night.  Although  I  worked  thus  hard,  my 
husband  did  not  realize  that  I  earned  anything.  He 
never  gave  me  a  dollar,  unless  I  asked  for  it.  I  felt 
like  a  beggar,  and  he  never  dreamed  that  I  felt  so. 
At  the  close  of  the  first  year  we  moved  out  here. 
One  day  I  sat  down  and  calmly  surveyed  the  situa- 
tion, and  soliloquized  in  this  style:  '  Daisy  you  are 
certainly  good  for  something,  but  you  are  certainly 
not  a  success  as  a  housekeeper.  What  are  you  good 
for?  What  can  you  do?'" 
11 


162  Out  °f 

"  Give  music  lessons  ;  you  like  that  work,  and  hence 
will  succeed,"  responded  my  good  fairy.  In  a  short 
time  I  had  donned  my  walking-suit,  and  was  out  in 
the  village  in  search  of  music  scholars.  Before  night 
I  had  secured  twelve;  twelve  scholars,  to  pay  me, 
twelve  dollars  per  quarter  ;  think  of  it,  five  hundred 
and  seventy-six  dollars,  a  year.  On  my  way  home 
I  engaged  a  poor  girl  who  had  been  killing  herself  by 
taking  in  sewing,  to  come  and  live  with  me,  as  my 
housekeeper.  She  was  then  living  in  a  garret.  I 
could  give  her  a  comfortable  room,  and  pay  her  three 
dollars  a  week.  She  disliked  sewing  and  enjoyed 
housekeeping  ;  so  that  two  persons  at  least  would  be 
benefited  by  my  plans. 

"That  night  I  unfolded  my  plan  to  my  husband. 
At  first  he  seriously  objected.  '  Why,  Daisy,  people 
will  think  it  very  strange  if  I  cannot  take  care  of  my 
own  wife.' 

"  But,  my  dear,  you  cannot  take  better  of  me  now. 
I  have  worked  hard,  and  at  very  distasteful  labor, 
ever  since  we  have  been  married.  It  will  only  de- 
mand twenty-four  hours  of  each  week.  I  will  have 
much  more  time  for  culture  and  improvement,  will 
be  a  better  wife,  and  will  make  about  four  hundred 
dollars  a  year  more  than  the  girl's  wages,  and  that 
will  be  very  convenient  to  have  in  the  family ;  and 
then  this  girl  is  a  good  cook,  and  our  domestic  joys 
will  not  be  marred  by  heavy  bread  and  burnt  meat." 

"  You  forget  the  girl's  board." 

"No,  I  have  not  forgotten  that.  I  do  not  believe 
in  a  year  it  will  amount  to  but  little  more,  than  what 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  163 

we  have  paid  for  washing  and  doctor's  bills  for  me, 
and  the  difference  in  the  expense  of  my  own  clothes. 
You  know  that  I  am  awkward,  and  you  have  looked 
with  dismay  on  the  grease  spots  on  my  dresses.  And 
then  you  know  I  shall  have  four  hundred  dollars  for 
the  family  treasury ;  and  you  will  have  a  much  more 
aimable  and  tidy  wife." 

He  was  at  last  convinced.  I  am  now  performing 
congenial  labor,  while  my  housekeeper  says,  she  is 
eoufldent  that  her  change  of  employment  has  saved 
her  life,  and  we  are  all  happier  and  better. 

Now  convince  me  that  I  have  not  wearied  you,  by 
sending  me  a  long  letter  in  regard  to  your  own,  dear 
self;  your  plans  and  purposes. 

Always  your  friend, 

DAISY. 


164  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 


CHAPTEE    XXIV. 

IN  HER  SPHERE. 

,  power  bid  in  pathos  ;  a  flre  veiled  in  cloud  ; 
;  still  horning  outward  ;  a  branch  which,  tho'  bow'd 
•  the  bird  in  its  passage,  springs  upward  again  ; 
Through  all  symbols  I  search  for  her  sweetness-  in  vain. 

Judge  her  love  by  her  life — for  our  life  is  but  love. 
In  art,  pure  was  hers ;  and  the  dear  God  above 
"Who  knows  what  His  creatures  have  need  of  for  life, 
•  And  whose  love  includes  all  love,  this  much  patient  strife 
Led  her  soul  into  peace." 

"Good  afternoon,  sister  Green.  Have  you  heard 
the  news  ?  It  does  beat  all.  In  these  days  there  is  no 
knowing  what  will  happen  next.  Madge  Warner  is 
going  to  be  married,  and  going  to  do  right  well,  they 
say,  too.  Some  man  from  New  York  ;  editor  of  a 
paper.  Law!  won't  that  just  suit  her;  won't  she 
flourish  in  that  paper?  Well,  I  wish  her  much  joy; 
I  do,  indeed.  I  never  had  nothing  against  her,  but  if 
she  does  marry,  and  marry  well,  it  will  be  a  bad 
thing  for  the  rest  of  our  girls,  because,  you  see  there's 
several  of  them  that  have  been  reading  about  wo- 
man's rights  and  hearing  their  lectures,  until  they 
half  believe  it.  Here's  my  Mary  Ann,  if  you  believe 
it,  has  got  an  idea  that  she  wants  to  be  a  doctor.  Well, 
the  only  way  I  could  talk  her  out  of  it  was  to  tell  her 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  165 

that  gentlemen  would  make  fun  of  her,  and  that  she 
would  be-  obliged  to  live  an  old  maid  all  her  life. 
Well,  right  on  the  track  of  that,  here  comes  the  news 
that  Marjory  Warner,  who  has  always  been  as  inde- 
pendent as  the  Fourth  of  July,  and  been  through  the 
country  lecturing,  and  all  that ;  that  she  is  to  be  mar- 
ried, and  married  well.  You  see  it  rather  spoils  my 
strongest  argument.  But  Madge  is  pretty,  and  you 
know,  sister  Green,  that  ever  since  Eve  ate  the'apple, 
a  pretty  woman  can  convince  a  man  that  most  any- 
thing is  right.  But  do  you  suppose  we  will  get  a  bid 
to  the  wedding  ?  I  am  mighty  glad  that  I  have  never 
talked  about  Marjory  as  some  folks  in  this  tow*n  have, 
'cause  I  would  kinder  hate  not  to  go  to  the  wedding ; 
and  you  know  Mrs.  Warner  gets  up  beautiful  suppers. 
But  you  just  mark  my  words,  if  Marjory  does  marry 
and  gets  a  rich  husband,  some  of  them  folks  that 
made  the  most  fun  of  her,  will  be  the  very  first  ones 
to  make  a  fuss  over  her,  and  just  as  sure  as  they  do,  I 
mean  to  tell  on  'em.  But  how  I  have  run  on,  I  ex- 
pect my  bread  is  burned  to  a  cinder." 

The  village  was  filled  with  rumors  of  Marjory's 
wedding,  and  Dame  Rumor  was  right.  Little  Chris- 
tine guided  Winthrop  to  Marjory,  and  when  they 
separated  she  had  promised  to  become  his  wife. 
When  Marjory  said,  "What  about  my  lecturing, 
dear,  do  you  expect  me  to  give  that  up?"  Winthrop 
replied,  "  I  want  you  for  my  wife,  and  I  never  wish  to 
stand  between  you  and  any  duty.  In  your  married 
life  as  through  your  girlhood,  I  believe  you  will 
endeavor  to  perform  your  duty  in  all  circumstances. 


166  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

Let  us  only  love  and  assist  each  other  in  every  duty, 
pleasure  and  trial." 

In  a  few  weeks  there  was  a  beautiful  wedding,  and 
while  persons  criticised  and  prophecied,  Winthrop 
and  Marjory,  with  a  united,  earnest  prayer  to  God, 
fer  guidance,  commenced  their  married  life. 

Marjory,  happy  as  a  good  queen,  in  her  cottage 
homfii  full  of  good  books  and  pictures,  did  not  clamor 
tor  H^hts,  but  quietly  performed  each  duty,  and 
awaited  developments.  One  morning  her  husband 
loitered  in  the  library  longer  than  was  his  custom, 
and  at  last,  gave  expression  to  his  thought  in  this 
manner,  ci  Darling,  I  do  not  see  any  reason  why  I 
should  bid  you  good-bye  twice  a  day,  and  go  to  my 
sanctum  to  write,  and  leave  you  here  in  yours.  I 
want  you  with  me.  You  can  assist  me,  and  I  can 
assist  you.  Come,  put  on  your  hat  and  go  with  me 
to-day.  You  asked  me  for  some  data  in  regard  to  the 
article  you  were  writing  yesterday,  come  with  me, 
and  I  will  give  it  to  you." 

And  thus  Marjory  was  again  guided  "  out  of  her 
sphere  ".by  the  loving  hand  of  her  own  husband. 
But  what  of  her  home.  The  good  housekeeper 
attended  to  that.  But  what  if  all  women  should  rush 
into  editorial  chairs  and  lawyer's  offices — speedily 
asks  the  short-sighted  people — where  would  we  find 
any  housekeepers?  We  answer,  all  women  are  not 
fitted  for  such  occupations,  any  more  than  all  men. 
But  some  women  are,  and  they  should  have  a  right 
to  enter  any  place  where  they  can  perform  the  best 
and  most  effectual  service  for  humanity  and  God. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  167 

Men  have  crowded  women  out  of  their  peculiar 
sphere.  Go  into  any  of  our  towns  and  cities,  you 
find  men  conducting  large  bakeries,  making  bread, 
and  pies,  and  cake.  You  find  them  canning  and 
preserving  fruit.  You  discover  them  sewing  on 
machines,  and  weaving,  and  knitting,  and  spinning. 
They  have  owned  the  capital,  and  have  thus  been 
enabled  to  work  on  a  larger  scale,  than  women.  If  it 
is  right  for  a  men  to  bake  pies,  and  bread,  and  cake, 
to  sew,  and  knit,  and  spin,  then  it  is  equally  right  for  a 
woman  to  do  any  work  that  she  can  do  well,  be  it  to 
sell  goods,  write  editorials,  preach,  or  lecture.  Every 
avenue  of  labor  is  open  to  men,  we  ask  the  same 
privileges  for  women. 

God  had  bestowed  upon  Marjory  the  gift  of  expres- 
sion. She  had  a  genius  for  writing,  and  so  she 
entered  her  husband's  sanctum,  and  soon  sent  out  to 
the  world,  through  the  medium  of  his  paper,  earnest 
appeals  in  behalf  of  her  sex — asking  that  room  be 
given  to  women  in  the  world  of  honest  labor— plead- 
ing with  women  to  educate  themselves,  and  prepare 
to  do  their  work  so  thoroughly  that  they  could  com- 
mand equal  wages,  with  men,  for  equal  labor.  Her 
husband  rendered  her  such  assistance  as  she  could 
have  procured  from  no  one  else,  and  they  were,  in 
fact,  mutual  helpmates. 

Previous  to  their  marriage,  Winthrop  had  been 
greatly  interested  in  a  mission  Sabbath-School,  and 
ere  long  they  were  working  together  for  that  good 
object.  Winthrop,  as  Superintendent,  often  invited 
Marjory  to  talk  to  the  school.  And  one  day  as  she 


168  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

closed  some  earnest  remarks,  a  number  of  the  older 
scholars  crowded  around  her,  insisting  that  she  should 
preach  for  them  a  little.  Many  of  them  were  poor, 
weary  women,  who  never  attended  church,  and  had 
but  little  conception  of  God  and  truth,  and  yet  they 
felt  that  Marjory  was  interested  in  them,  that  she 
sympathized  with  them,  and  so  they  loved  to  have 
her  talk  to  them  of  a  better  way  to  live  and  to  hear 
her  assurances,  that  God  had  provided  rest  and  com- 
fort for  them  in  another  world. 

When  Marjory  heard  their  request,  that  she  should 
talk  to  them,  instinctively  she  turned  to  her  husband 
with  the  question:  "Will  yon  assist  me,  Win- 
throp?" 

Winthrop  looked  upon  the  hungry  faces,  and  could 
not  turn  away;  and  so  entering  the  little  desk,  he 
told  the  wTaiting  groups  to  take  their  places,  and  they 
would  spend  an  hour  in  worship.  First  they  sang 
one  of  the  familiar  sabbath-school  hymns ;  then  Win- 
throp offered  an  earnest  prayer,  and  then  Marjory 
commenced  her  sermon, — if  that  earnest,  quiet,  prac- 
tical talk,  may  be  called  a  sermon. 

The  next  Sabbath  a  much  larger  congregation 
convened,  and  again  did  the  little  mission  chapel 
resound  with  prayer  and  praise.  As  the  weeks 
rolled  by,  many  of  the  poor,  who  could  not  enter  the 
fashionable  churches,  heard  of  the  new  preacher,  and 
ere  long  the  little  church  was  filled  with  men  and 
women,  asking  to  be  instructed  in  regard  to  right  liv- 
ing, and  the  true  God.  Marjory  was  blessed  with  the 
consciousness  that  she  was  doing  much  good ;  and  so 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  169 

with  renewed  consecration  to  this  new  and  beautiful 
work,  with  the  assistance  and  -encouragement  of  her 
noble  husband,  she  moved  forward — and  thus  God 
guided  her  into  her  pulpit.  She  met  with  opposition, 
of  course.  Her  own  pastor  called  upon  her,  and 
begged  her  not  to  forget  the  commandment,  "  Let 
your  women,  &c."  But  she  assured  him  that  if  she 
believed  that  command  applied  to  the  present  day, 
then  would  she  be  obliged  to  advise  every  woman  to 
give  up  teaching  in  the  Sabbath  School,  since  the 
same  inspired  writer  had  said:  "I  suffer  not  a 
woman  to  teach." 

Confident,  assured  beyond  a  doubt,  of  the  approval 
of  her  Heavenly  Father,  she  pursued  steadily  for- 
ward, doing  with  her  might  whatsoever  her  hands 
found  to  do.  Those  whose  privilege  it  was  to  enter 
their  beautiful  home,  ever  recognized  the  fact,  that 
the  duties  of  true,  noble,  and  exalted  womanhood,  and 
tender,  loving,  thoughtful  wifehood,  never  conflict. 


170  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

A  CHAPTER   WHICH    HA8    NO    CONNECTION    WITH    OUR 
STORY. 

You,  that  have  kindly  followed  Marjory  through 
her  varied  life,  until  she  was  the  mistress  of  a  beautiful 
home,  may  deem  the  picture  purely  imaginary,  hence 
I  ask  permission  to  state  some  facts,  and  invite  you 
to  one  more  hour  with  other  American  women,  who 
have  been  guided  "  out  of  their  spheres." 

To  a  far  greater  degree  than  we  imagine  are  we  the 
slaves  of  Custom,  and  the  subjects  of  the  tyrant,  Preju- 
dice; hence  we  applaud  a  woman  for  singing  an 
opera,  or  personating  a  fallen  queen  of  history  or 
song,  but  shrink  in  dismay  from  her  presence  in  the 
lyceum  or  pulpit.  Jennie  Lind  sang,  "  I  know  that 
my  Redeemer  liveth,"  and  the  civilized  world  ap- 
plauded ;  but  when  Phcebe  Hannaford,and  Celia  Bur- 
leigh,  in  sweetest  womanly  tones,  assert  the  same 
beautiful  truth,  many  of  the  civilized  shrink  back,  ex- 
claiming, "  Paul  suffered  not  a  woman  to  teach." 
Young,  beautiful  girls  may  be  placed  on  exhibition  as 
goddesses  of  "  Liberty  "  or  "Justice,"  at  the  head  of 
wild,  excitable,  tttmultuous  political  processions,  and, 
as  it  is  cusltfmary,  no  sense  of  delicacy  is  shocked. 
But,  if  these  same  girls,  on  election  day,  should  at- 
tempt to  deposit  a  ballot,  womanhood  would  be  lost, 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  171 

and  virtue  exist  alone  in  memory — thus  proclaim 
many  modern  logicians.  Yet,  again ;  during  our  late 
war,  fair,  young  girls,  to  whom  God  had  given  un- 
usual talent,  recited,  read,  and  sang,  in  public,  for  the 
benefit  of  our  soldiers,  and  the  entire  world  applauded 
them ;  but  let  them  so  much  as  publicly  ask  legisla- 
tion in  their  own  behalf,  to  secure  equity  in  the  laws, 
or  plead  for  justice ;  for  their  own  sex,  and  the  cry  is, 
"  unwomanly." 

And  yet,  good  friends,  the  cry  of  the  world  does 
not  prove  that  ,we  are  wrong ;  for  ever  since  the  ac- 
cient  Jews  proclaimed  their  choice  of  victims,  the 
world  has  re-echoed  their  cry,  and,  from  the  Divine 
Teacher  of  Nazareth,  to  the  latest  philanthropist, 
each  successive  reformer  has  heard  the  old,  familiar 
cry  "  away  with  him." 

And,  to-day,  living  as  we  do  in  this  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, habit  and  custom  seem  stronger  than  justice  and 
right ;  hence,  let  us  go  back  to  our  nursery  days,  ere 
habits  were  fixed,  or  customs  understood,  and  select 
our  text  from  Mrs.  Whitney's  "  Mother  Goose :  " 

"  There  was  an  old  woman  and  what  do  you  think  ? 
She  lived  upon  nothing  but  victuals  and  drink ; 
Victuals  and  drink  were  the  whole  of -her  diet, 
And  yet  this  old  woman  scarce  ever  was  quiet. 

Ah !  many  a  woman  goes  starving  I  ween, 
Who  dwells  in  a  palace  and  fares  like  a  queen, 
Till  the  sorrowing  heart  and  the  famishing  brain, 
Have  spelled  out  to  life's  end  the  long  lesson  of  pain. 

Yet  the  mass  of  mankind  is  uncommonly  slow, 
To  acknowledge  the  fact  it  behooves  them  to  know, 
Or  to  learn  that  a  woman  is  not  like  a  mouse, 
Needing  nothing  but  cheese  and  the  walls  of  a  house. 


172  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

But  just  take  a  man  shut  him  up  for  one  day, 

Get  his  hat  and  his  cane,  put  them  snugly  away  ; 

Give  him  stockings  to  mend,  and  three,  sumptuous  meals, 

And  then  ask  him  at  night,  if  you  dare,  how  he  feels  ! 

Do  you  think  he  would  quietly  stick  to  his  stocking, 

While  you  read  the  news  and  '  do  n't  care  about  talking?' " 

Ah !  you  know  he  would  not ;  he  would  have  his 
evening  paper  or  there  would  be  a  revolution,  just  as 
in  the  case  of  the  wives,  who,  becoming  weary  of 
ignorance,  secured  a  "Revolution"  for  themselves. 

During  those  early  years  passed  in  weaving,  spin- 
ning, and  knitting,  American  woman  were  thinking  ; 
but,  the  numberless  cares  incident  to  housekeeping 
in  a  new  country  prevented  these  thoughts  from 
being  transcribed.  But,  now  that  labor-saving  ma- 
chinery has  lightened  their  labors,  they  find  time, 
both  for  thinking  and  reading,  and  what  is  the  result? 

Women  looked  into  the  journals  and  papers  of  the 
period,  and  made  wonderful  discoveries.  Women, 
who,  in  quiet  homes  had  accepted  the  verbal  teach- 
ings of  their  lords  and  masters,  their  big  brothers  and 
sophoinorical  lovers.  Women,  who  really  believed 
that  men  admired  weakness  and  silliness,  peeped  into 
the  papers  on  that  fatal  day  and  discovered  such  pleas- 
ant paragraphs  as,  "Frailty,  thy  name  is  woman ;" 
"  Weak  as  a  woman ; "  or  some  writer  excusing  the 
waywardnes  of  some  man  of  genius,  because  his  wife 
was  too  ignorant  to  be  the  congenial  friend  of  so  gifted 
a  man.  In  fact  they  discovered  that  they  were  invaria- 
bly designated  as  an  extravagant,  silly,  vain  portion 
of  the  race;  that  in  endeavoring  to  please  everybody 
they  had  failed  to  please  anybody,  and  so  decided  that 


Out  of  ffer  Sphere.  173 

the  safest,  surest,  and  best  way  was  to  endeavor  to 
please  God  and  themselves,  and  to  trust  to  the  result. 
Conscientiously  to  perform  their  entire  duty  as  respon- 
sible citizens  of  a  Republic,  believing  in  the  truism, 
"  God  helps  those  who  help  themselves. 

In  the  summer  of  1848,  Lucretia  Mott  and  Eliza- 
beth Cady  Stanton  issued  a  call  for  a  Woman  Suffrage 
Convention.  In  response,  the  first  meeting  of  the 
kind  ever  held  in  the  interests  of  that  subject,  con- 
vened at  Seneca  Falls,  New  York  ;  and,  although  the 
demands  made  for  women  by  women  then,  were 
exactly  the  same  as  those  made  by  such  thinkers 
as  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  George  William  Curtis, 
Bishop  Simpson,  John  Stuart  Mill,  and  Theodore 
Tilton,  to-day,  yet  the  entire  country  was  convulsed 
with  laughter,  and  the  women  who  presided  over  that 
first  convention  were  subjected  to  the  ridicule  of  the 
nation 

Men  responded,  women  are  naturally  inferior  to  us. 
They  have  no  artists,  authors,  designers,  or  actors. 
If  they  are  equal  with  men,  let  them  demonstrate  it 
in  the  arena's  now  open  to  them.  The  American 
women  read  these  questioning  sneers.  Twenty  years 
have  passed.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  has  written 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  God  willed,  she  wrote, 
Lincoln  signed,  and  the  slaves  are  free.  Julia  Ward 
Howe  gave  to  us  the  "  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic," 
and,  inspired  by  its  patriotic  fire,  our  grand  heroes 
marched  to  victory ;  thus  securing  peace,  for  which 
she  now  so  grandly  pleads. 

Rosa    Bonheur   has  painted,    in  letters  of  glory, 


174  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

woman's  name  upon  the  scroll  of  art.  Harriet 
Hosmer  has  graven  it  in  marble ;  while  Anna  Dickin- 
son has  convinced  the  world  that  an  American  maiden 
may  become  a  peerless  orator. 

In  a  series  of  remarkable  conventions,  held  in  the 
largest  halls  of  the  great  cities  of  the  Union,  Eliza- 
beth Cady  Stanton,  Susan  B.  Anthony,  Lucretia 
Mott,  Lucy  Stone,  Mary  Livermore,  and  Julia  Ward 
Howe,  have  so  presented  the  right  of  woman  to  the 
suffrage,  that  to-day  it  is  "recommended"  in  the 
platforms  of  the  great  political  parties,  as  a  subject 
demanding  immediate  attention  ;  while,  ^n  one  little 
corner  of  our  great  West,  women  are  voting,  and  are 
tried  by  a  "jury  of  their  peers." 

Thus,  much  have  women  accomplished  unaided  by 
colleges,  schools  of  design,  or  that  wonderful,  little 
lever,  the  ballot,  itself.  The  old  saying  is  changed, 
and  men  assert,  "  give  women  what  they  ask." 

'iFor  what  our  women  can,  they  wiU, 

You  may  depend  upon  it — 
And  only  what  they  can't,  they  won't. 
And  that 's  the  end  of  it-" 

Long  years  ago  women  saw  their  homes  invaded, 
and  their  happiness  destroyed  by  the  crime  of  drunk- 
eness.  They  longed  to  secure  assistance  from  the 
strong  arm  of  the  law,  and  in  the  winter  of  1848, 
Susan  B.  Anthony  called  a  State  Temperance  Conven- 
tion at  Albany,  New  York.  In  the  May  following, 
one  at  Rochester.  A  State  society  was  formed,  and 
three  delegates  appointed  to  attend  the  Men's  State 
Temperance  Convention,  to  be  held  in  Syracuse,  in 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  175 

June,  but  these  delegates  were  denied  admission  on 
account  of  their  sex. 

Two  woman  who  had  battled  bravely  in  the  anti- 
Slavery  cause,  were  denied  membership  in  the  anti- 
Slavery  Convention,  held  in  London  in  1840 ;  their 
credentials  were  left  unopened,  and  they,  after  their 
journey  across  the  ocean,  were  obliged  to  sit  dumb 
and  powerless  among  the  spectators,  merely  on  ac- 
count of  their  sex.  What  was  the  result  ?  Lucretia 
Mott  and  Mrs.  Stanton  returned  to  America,  convinced 
that,  before  women  could  assist  in  the  great  reforms 
of  the  day,  they  must  first  help  themselves  to  political 
power. 

Miss  Anthony  made  her  debut  as  a  public  speaker, 
in  behalf  of  Temperance ;  lecturing  on  that  subject 
and  forming  temperance  societies,  while  engaged  in 
teaching  school.  After  teaching  for  fifteen  years,  by 
the  closest  economy,  she  had  saved  three  hundred  dol- 
lars; since,  although  the  school  superintendent  com- 
plimented her  school  as  the  best  disciplined  in  the 
county,  they  gave  her  but  eight  dollars  a  month,  and 
the  un-complimented  gentleman  thirty  ;  so  that  from 
actual  experience  she  renders  effective  her  lectures 
upon  the  effects  of  the  ballot,  upon  woman's  work 
and  wages. 

In  this,  we  discover  the  varied  discipline  by  which 
the  women  destined  to  lead  this  reform,  were  brought 
up  from  that  selfish  plane  where  women  calmly  cling 
to  selfishness,  because  they  "  have  all  the  rights  they 
want."  Mary  Livermore,  hungering  and  thirsting 
for  a  classical  education,  being  turned  away  from 


176  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

"  Harvard  "  because  her  great  brain  throbbed  in  a 
girl's  body.  Lucretia  Mott  and  Mrs.  Stanton,  having 
presented  their  credentials  in  vain,  to  a  convention, 
to  attend  which  they  had  crossed  the  Atlantic.  Susan 
B.  Anthony  finding  herself  powerless  to  effect  any- 
thing for  temperance  and  learning  by  better  experi- 
ence, that  not  yet  in  free  America,  is  a  woman  laborer 
considered  worthy  of  her  hire. 

And  yet  these  women  are  the  high  priestesses  of 
beautiful  homes,  and  many  in  each  home  circle,  rise 
up  to  call  them  blessed. 

Says  Lucretia  Mott,  "  My  life  in  thedonu'stic  sphere 
has  passed  much  as  that  of  other  wives  and  mothers 
in  this  country.  God  has  given  me  six  children— not 
accustomed  to  resigning  them  to  the  care  of  a  nurse, 
I  was  confined  to  them  during  their  infancy  and  child- 
hood. Being  fond  of  reading  I  omitted  much  un- 
necessary stitching  and  ornamental  work  in  the  sew- 
ing for  my  family,  so  that  I  might  have  time  for  the 
improvement  of  my  mind." 

Bight  here  we  would  like  to  ask  our  girl  friends,  if 
they  are  willing  to  have  their  mothers'  brains  and 
intellects  stitched  into  their  tucks  and  fluted  into  their 
ruffles?  A  pitiful  story  might  be  told  of  loving 
mothers,  who  have  made  the  fatal  mistake  of  neglect- 
ing self-culture,  reading  and  accomplishments,  and 
devoting  their  time  to  sewing  for  their  daughters — 
ornamental  sewing — these  daughters  meanwhile  pro- 
gressing, and  at  last  ungrateful  enough  to  become 
ashamed  of  their  ignorant  mothers.  Imagine  a  bril- 
liant girl  returning  from  a  summer  tour,  accompanied 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  177 

by  an  educated  gentleman  friend.  Said  cavalier,  anx- 
ious for  nameless  reasons  to  secure  favor  in  the  moth- 
er's estimation,  attempts  a  conversation  with  her. 
Refers  to  the  summer  tour,  and  queries,  "  if  she  ever 
visited  the  Natural  Bridge  in  Virginia?  "  The  poor, 
nervous,  little  woman,  whose  ideas  have  been  stitched 
into  her  daughter's  out-fit,  replies,  "  Oh !  yes— I — I 
visited  there  some  time  ago,  but  that  was  before  it 
was  finished."  Far  better,  that  our  mothers  should 
give  ideas  and  refined  tastes  to  their  daughters,  than 
an  infinitude  of  tucks  and  ruffles. 

Women  are  crying  for  time  ;  say  they  have  no  time 
for  reading,  for  self-culture,  for  social  enjoyment; 
what  shall  they  do?  Give  up  reading?  No!  Fore- 
go social  enjoyment?  No !  What  then  ?  Sacrifice  one- 
tenth  of  the  ruffles  and  flutings ;  and,  now,  that  Paris 
has  yielded  her  sceptre,  let  American  women  be  sen- 
sible enough  to  adopt  some  comfortable  fashions,  and 
adhere  to  them.  Our  country  has  been  passing 
through  a  fiery  ordeal.  The  fire  fiend  has  desolated 
our  cities,  prairies,  and  woodlands.  Thousands  of  wo- 
men who,  but  a  few  short  weeks  ago — safe  in  the 
luxurious  retreats  of  elegant  homes — folded  their  jew- 
eled hands,  sneered  at  the  woman  movement,  and 
complacently  exclaimed,  "  I  have  all  the  rights  I 
want;"  to-day,  from  the  depths  of  poverty  and  help- 
lessness, cry  out,  "  My  sisters,  we  pray  you  to  come 
over  and  help  us.  Homeless  and  helpless,  we  demand 
a  place  in  the  worjd  of  work  and  equal  wages,  with 
men  for  equal  work." 

Ah !  women  of  Chicago,  would  that  we  could 
12 


178  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

strengthen  the  weak,  untrained,  unskillful  hands. 
Would  that  we  could  enter  our  legislative  halls  and 
legislate  in  your  behalf,  just  as  men  will  legislate  for 
men. 

Widows  of  fatherless  children !  Until  yonr  taxes  are 
lessened  because  of  your  womanhood ;  until  the  State 
makes  the  same  provision  for  the  education  of  your 
daughters  as  it  does  for  your  sons ;  until  you  have  the 
same  property  rights  that  widowers  have ;  then  must 
you  sit  in  your  desolated  homes  and  know  yourselves 
unrepresented. 

In  that  same  city,  are  many  grey-haired  fathers, 
who,  on  that  fatal  night,  witnessed  the  accumulation 
of  a  busy  lifetime  swept  away,  Alas  !  that  in  these 
hours  of  poverty  and  trial,  many  fathers  will  secretly 
regret  that  their  children  are  not  all  sons.  Why? 
Because  their  daughters  have  been  educated  in  the 
false  idea,  that  labor  and  industry  are  foreign  to  rich 
men's  daughters ;  because  their  daughters  cannot 
command  the  same  wages  as  their  brothers ;  because 
their  daughters  have  no  political  power.  And  why? 
Are  these  daughters  inferior  to  their  brothers  ?  No ! 
But  they  belong  to  a  disfranchised  class ;  taxed  the  same  ; 
hung  the  same;  and  yet  with  no  political  power  for 
self-protection. 

But  girls,  see  to  it,  that  no  father  shall  have  real 
occasion  for  bewailing  his  daughters.  Let  the  new 
city,  the  "  Phoenix  City,"  which  is  to  arise,  become  a 
monument  of  economy,  industry,  courage,  and  toil  of 
our  Western  girls  and  Western  women. 

Bight  here,  we  imagine  some  reader  asserting,  you 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  179 

ignore  the  grand,  beautiful  duties  of  motherhood. 
No,  we  exalt  them.  There  is  nothing  more  beautiful 
than  maternal  care  and  labor,  if  so  be,  the  mother  is 
noble  and  true;  but  there  is  no  sadder  sight  than, 
that  of  ignorant,  silly,  selfish  women,  educating  their 
children  to  lives  of  uselessness,  or  positive  wickedness. 

"  But  what  of  the  motherhood  of  the  suffrage 
advocates?"  speedily  inquire  the  prejudiced  and 
unbelieving. 

Would  that  in  reply  we  could  portray  in  panoramic 
succession,  the  homes  of  the  leaders  of  this  reform. 

Go  with  me  into  the  beautiful  home  of  Mary  A.  Liv- 
ermore;  enter  the  cosy  library  where  the  husband 
writes  his  sermons,  and  the  wife  corrects  her  proof  and 
writes  her  editorials.  While  that  home  was  in  Chi- 
cago, it  was  our  privilege  to  visit  the  little  printing 
office  adjoining  it;  and,  when  we  saw  those  eight 
cheerful  girls  setting  type  for  the  "  Agitator,"  when 
we  observed  the  floor,  white  enough  to  be  suggestive 
of  grandmother's  kitchen;  caught  the  perfume  of 
flowers,  and  listened  to  the  bird's  singing,  we  were 
reminded  of  other  printing-offices  we  had  visited,  and 
the  comparison  recalled  Dr.  Milton  Gaine's  soliloquy, 
"  The  Lord  ha'd  printing  offices  in  view  when  he  said, 
'  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone.'  " 

For  nine  years  Mrs.  Livermore  did  not  leave  an 
afflicted  daughter  for  one  hour.  Nor  was  she  ever 
wooed  from  the  home-life  she  so  much  enjoyed,  until 
the  necessities  of  the  war  seemed  to  make  it  a  duty ; 
and,  for  the  sake  of  the  noble  work  she  then 


180  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

performed,  should  our  citizen  soldiery  accord  to  her 
the  ballot  to-day. 

Our  opponents  constantly  tell  us  we  are  not  eligible 
to  the  ballot,  because  we  cannot  fight.  Would  not 
our  patriots  who  so  grandly  "  marched  down  to  the 
sea,"  gladly  have  given  the  women  at  home  power  to 
ballot  for  freedom?  Would  it  have  demoralized  the 
patriotic  women  at  home  to  have  voted  for  Lincoln, 
and  to  have  voted  supplies  for  our  soldiery  ? 

But,  let  us  return  from  the  war  to  enter  the  peaceful 
home  of  Elizabeth  Cady  Stanton,  where  she  reigns  a 
queenly  mother  of  seven  children.  Twenty  years  of 
her  life  she  devoted  to  her  children,  and  when  they 
had  outgrown  her  care,  she  devoted  her  maturer 
years  to  loving,  maternal  care  for  society,  for  hu- 
manity. 

And  who  that  has  listened  to  sweet  voiced,  persua- 
sive Lucy  Stone,  has  not  recognized  the  fact  that 
twenty  years  of  earnest,  public  work,  has    not  de- 
tracted one  jot  or  tittle  from  the  true  wonanliness  of 
the  loving  wife  and  mother. 

Listening  to  these  women,  hearing  them  plead  for 
a  new  evangel  of  womanhood,  observing  their  wo- 
manly manner,  and  catching  their  motherly  tones, 
all  recognize  the  fact,  that  a  true,  pure  woman  may 
go  anywhere  on  this  broad,  green  earth,  doing  with 
her  might  whatsoever  her  hands  find  to  do,  retaining 
her  womanliness  and  commanding-  the  respect  of  the 
pure  and  the  true,  by  the  power  of  womanhood  alone. 
True  itisthat  some  of  these  women  have  been  obliged 


Out  of  Her  Sphere  181 

to  walk  alone,  and  use  for  stepping  stones  their  own 
weary,  lacerated  hearts ;  but  the  majority  have  walked 
royally  as  queens,  every  step  of  the  way  rendered  beau- 
tiful by  the  assistance  of  true  soul-princes,  and  so 
aided,  have  erected  upon  the  heights,  not  only  a  tem- 
ple of  fame,  but  the  most  beautiful  of  structures- 
Christian  homes. 

And  now,  in  conclusion,  a  few  words  in  regard  to 
the  suffrage : 

"  A  persecuted  people  left  their  native  land,  and 
amid  the  wilds  of  a  newly  discovered  country,  pro- 
claimed the  watchword  of  the  new  government  to  be 
'equality  before  the  law.'  Years  passed— ' Lincoln ' 
issued  a  call  for  troops  to  save  the  Republic.  The 
men  of  the  Republic  sprang  into  a  nation  of  warriors, 
and  the  women  of  the  Republic  occupied  their  vacant 
places,  and  became  citizens ;  and  now  make  their 
demand  for  '  equality  before  the  lawS  " 

If,  as  some  believe,  the  right  to  the  ballot  is  not  a 
natural  right,  but  a  right  bestowed  by  governments, 
then  we  ask,  who  ia  this  country  has  a  stronger  claim 
upon  the  ballot  than  the  unrepresented,  childless 
widow,  who  has  given  husband  and  sons  to  save  the 
government  under  which  we  live  ? 

The  "  Pilgrim  Fathers  "  proclaimed  to  the  world, 
"  taxation  without  representation  is  tyranny."  The 
pilgrim's  daughters  take  up  the  cry,  and  are  sounding 
it  throughout  the  civilized  world. 

When  Wallace  met  Bruce,  in  the  "Highlands," 
and  fought  him  such  a  battle  with  reason  and 


182  Out  of  Her  Sphere. 

kindness,  the  voice  of  Bruce  was  from  that  hour, 
for  "Scotland  and  Freedom,"  instead  of  England 
and  oppression. 

Let  us  educate  mind  and  heart,  clothing  our  argu- 
ments with  so  beautiful  a  garment  of  kindness,  that 
the  voice  of  every  Bruce,  who  to-day  shouts  "  rebels, 
felons,  idiots,  and  women,"  shall  be  changed  to  a  glad 
acclaim,  equality  and  the  enfranchisement  and  eleva- 
tion of  humanity. 

But  now  that  Tilton,  Higginson,  Curtis,  and  a  host 
of  others,  have  argued  our  cause  so  logically,  bringing 
to  bear  the  masculine  logic  which  women  are  not 
supposed  to  possess,  the  reading  public  admits  that 
abstractly  woman  suffrage  is  right. 

Still  many  of  our  journalists  even  yet  demand  utter 
impossibilities  of  women,  since  to  satisfy  their  re- 
quirements ;  any  woman  desiring  to  enter  the  lyceum, 
should  be  young,  beautiful,  well  dressed,  accomplished, 
a  superior  housekeeper,  and  the  mother  of  at  least  six 
children. 

The  Hon.  Horace  Greeley's  white  coat,  was  accepted 
as  an  accentricity  of  genius,  while  the  entire  world 
has  grown  tipsy  with  laughter  at  Susan  B.  Anthony's 
spectacles.  But  a  drunkard,  you  know,  always  sup- 
poses all  the  world  drunk,  and  himself  the  only  sober 
one.  Just  so  the  future  generations  will  discover  that 
the  world  made  a  sorry  spectacle  of  itself,  in  refusing 
to  see  through  Miss  Anthony's  far-sighted  glasses. 
From  whose  glasses  the  grateful  women  of  the  future 
will  gladly  drink  to  her  fame  and  memory. 


Out  of  Her  Sphere.  183 

Some  men  seem  to  write  their  biographies  thus : 
"  Bules  by  the  grace  of  God  so  long  as  we  're  not 
obliged  to  compete  with  women."  To  all  such  timid 
ones  we  would  say,  be  of  good  cheer,  you  are  centu- 
ries in  advance  of  us,  with  your  colleges  and  the  pres- 
tige of  your  name,  and,  although,  if  entirely  unfetter- 
ed, we  might  win  the  race,  yet  a  wise  God  has  pre- 
served the  balance  of  power  for  all  the  future,  by 
fastening  upon  woman  golden  weights.  He  made  us 
mothers,  and  rest  assured  that  we  will  always,  and  ever, 
loiter  and  rest,  and  slacken  our  steps  in  order  to  guide 
and  guard  the  children.  You  may  wear  the  crown  of 
power,  and  we  will  retain  our  sceptre  of  mother- 
hood. 

Women  will  never  wander  out  of  the  sphere  of 
motherhood,  until  we  enter  that  other  world,  so  pure 
and  perfect  that  there  shall  be  no  need  of  mothers. 


"  God  helps  those  who  helps  themselves,"  comes 
echoing  down  the  ages. 

"  The  world  belongs  to  those  who  take  it,"  reiterates 
our  eloquent  Anna  Dickinson. 

Healthy  agitation  precedes  all  true  reform. 

Therefore  "  agitate "  and  "  revolutionize,"  says 
woman  suffrage. 

But  who  shall  agitate,  who  revolutionize?  Who? 
The  young,  enthusiabtic,  pure  women  of  the  republic ; 
those  to  whom  life,  with  its  grand  possibilities,  its 
beautiful  realities,  and  Christian  charities,  is  only 
waiting  to  be  possessed ;  those  who  are  free  from  any 


Out  of  Her  Sphere. 


actual  experience  of  personal  wrongs;  into  whose 
souls  the  iron  has  not  entered,  but  who  come  with  a 
grand  faith  in  justice  and  truth,  to  assist  in  this  reform. 
A  reform  which  means  temperance,  morality,  eleva- 
tion and  Christianity.  Aye !  and  which  also  means, 
the  establishment,  for  the  first  time,  of  a  republic 
into  whose  white  walls  or  crystalline  pillars,  shall 
not  enter  a  stone  of  caste,  class,  or  sex. 


MILLS  ft  Co.,  Printers  and  Publishers,  Des  Homes,  Iowa. 


Advertisements, 


THE  WOMAN'S  JOURNAL 


THE    WOMAN'S     ADVOCATE. 

CONSOLIDATED  AUGUST  13, 1870. 

A  Weekly  Newspaper,  published  every  Saturday,  in  BOSTON 
and  CHICAGO,  devoted  to  the  interests  of  Woman,  to  her  educa- 
tional, industrial,  legal,  and  political  Equality,  and  especially  to 
her  right  of  Suffrage. 

MAKY  A.  LIVERMOEE,  EDITOR. 

JULIA  WARD  HOWE,  Lucx  STONE,  HENRY  B.  BLACKWBLL,  and 
T.  W.  HIGGINSON,  Associate  Editors. 


TERMS: 

$2.50  a  year,  invariably  in  advance.    Single  copy,  6  cents. 

CLUB  RATES. — Three  copies,  one  year,  $6.50 ;  ten  copies,  one 
year,  $20.00. 

Specimen  copies  sent  on  receipt  of  two-cent  stamp  for  postage. 

For  sale  and  subscriptions  received  by  THE  NEW  ENGLAND 
NEWS  Co.,  41  Court  street,  Boston,  and  THE  AMERICAN  NEWS  Co., 
119  Nassau  street,  New  York. 

RATES  OF  ADVERTISING- 

One  square  of  eight  lines,  first  insertion,  $1.00;  subsequent 
insertion,  50  cents.  Business  notices,  20  cents  per  line.  The  price 
for  advertising  is  uniform  and  inflexible. 

BOSTON  OFFICE— 3  Tremont  Place,  rear  of  Tremont  House  and 
second  door  from  Beacon  street. 

St.  Louis  Address,  FANNY  HOLY,  Insurance  Exchange  Building, 
Room  18,  corner  Fifth  and  Olive  streets. 


All  communications  for  the  WOMAN'S  JOURNAL,  and  all  letters 
relating  to  its  editorial  management,  must  be  addressed  to  MARY 
A.  LIVERMOHE,  Editor. 

Letters  containing  remittances,  and  relating  to  the  business 
department  of  the  paper,  must  be  addressed  to  Box  4297,  Boston. 


Advertisements. 


THE   REVOLUTION 


W.  T.  CLARKE,  Editor. 


This  journal  is  devoted  to  the  interests  of  Woman  and  Home 
Culture.  Items  of  intelligence,  articles  and  communications  are 
solicited.  Contributions  must  be  short,  pointed,  and  important, 
and  invariably  addressed  to  the  Editor.  Articles  will  be  returned 
when  requested,  if  the  postage  is  inclosed.  Terms:  THREE 
DOLLARS  per  year,  payable  in  advance.  Remittances  should  be 
made  by  Post-Office  Money  Orders,  Bank  Checks  or  Drafts,  or 
Registered  Letters.  Papers  are  forwarded  until  ordered  discon- 
tinued, and  all  arrearages  paid,  as  required  by  law.  In  writing 
on  business,  always  give  the  name  of  post-office  and  State.  Ad- 
dress, 

Publisher  of  THE   REVOLUTION, 

Box  6711,  New  York  City. 
American  News  Company,  Sole  News  Agents. 

H.  H.  HALL,  PRINTER. 


Advertisement*. 


Woman  Suffrage  Tracts, 

PUBLISHED  BY 

The  American  Woman  Suffrage  Association. 


No.  1.  HENRY  WARD  BEEC  HER—  Address  at  the  Cooper  In- 
stitute, New  York,  Feb.  2,  1860. 

No.  2.  GEORGE  WILLIAM  CURTIS—  Speech  in  the  New  York 
Constitutional  Convention,  July  19,  1867. 

No.  3.  JOHN  STUART  MILL—  Speech  in  the  British  Parlia- 
ment, May  20,  1867. 

No.  4.  THOMAS  WENT  WORTH  HIGGINSON—  "  Ought  Wo- 
men to  Learn  the  Alphabet  ?  "  From  the  Atlantic 
Monthly,  February,  1859. 

No.  5.  SAMUEL  E.  SEW  ALL—  "  The  Legal  Condition  of  Wo- 
men in  Massachusetts."  New  and  revised  edition. 

No.  6.  GEORGE  F.  HOAR—  "  Woman's  Right  and  the  Public 
Welfare."  Speech  before  a  Committee  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts Legislature,  April  14,  1869. 

No.  7.    JOHN  HOOKER—14  The  Bit  le  and  Woman  Suffrage." 

No.  8.  GEO.  WM.  CURTIS—"  Fair  Play  for  Women."  Deliv- 
ered before  the  American  Woman  Suffrage  Association, 
New  York,  May  12,  1870. 

For  sale  at  the  office  of  the 


3    Tremont   Place,  Boston. 
Price  5  cents,  singly  ;  four  for  10  cents  ;  $2  per  hundred. 

|J3^~  Single  copies  will  be  sent  by  mail  postpaid  on  receipt  of  5 
cents,  or  four  for  10  cents,  free  of  postage. 

Also,  JOHN    STUART  MILL'S  late  admirable  work,  "THE 
SUBJECTION  OF  WOMEN."    25  cents,  or  30  cents  by  mail. 


Advertisements. 


The  Golden  Age 

A  Weekly  Journal  devoted  to  the  Free  Discussion  of  oil  Living  Ques- 
tions of  Church,  State,  Society,  Literature,  Art, 
and   Moral   Reform, 

Published  every  Wednesday  at  No.  9  Spruce  Street,  New 

York  City. 
THEODORE    TILTON, 

EDITOR  AND  PUBLISHES. 

W.  T.  CLAKKE, Associate  Editor. 

O.  W.  RULAND, Associate  Publisher. 

TERMS  OF    SUBSCKIPTION. 

Single  copies,  $3  per  annum  ;  four  copies,  $10,  which  is  $2.50  a 
copy ;  eight  copies,  $20.  The  party  who  sends  $30  for  a  club  of 
eight  copies  (all  sent  at  one  time)  will  be  entitled  to  a  copy  FREE. 
Postmasters  and  others  who  get  up  clubs  in  their  respective 
towns,  can  afterward  add  single  copies  at  $2.50. 

ADVERTISING  RATES,  25  cents  a  line,  for  each  insertion— a 
price  which,  considering  the  unusual  width  of  the  columns, 
enables  the  advertiser  to  cover  a  good  deal  of  space  at  a  moderate 
cost. 

AGENTS  are  wanted  to  canvass  the  principal  cities  and  towns 
of  the  United  States  to  procure  subscriptions  for  this  journal. 
All  persons  soliciting  such  employment  are  requested  to  write  to 
the  Editor  and  Publisher,  enclosing  credentials  of  integrity  and 
capacity.  Applications  from  persons  who  can  give  no  references 
will  receive  no  attention. 

THE  GOLDEN  AGE  TRACTS. 

No.  1.  "  THE  RIGHTS  OF  WOMEN."  A  Letter  to  Horace 
Greeley  by  Theodore  Tilton.  Price  5  cents :  $3  per  hundred. 

No.  2.  "THE  CONSTITUTION  A  TITLE-DEED  TO  WO- 
MAN'S FRANCHISE  "  A  Letter  to  Charles  Sumncr  by  Theodore 
Tilton.  Price  5  cents ;  $3  per  hundred. 

No.  3.  "VICTORIA  C.  WOODHULL."  A  Biographical 
Sketch.  By  Theodore  Tilton.  36  pages.  Price  10  cents. 

No.  4.  "THE  SIN  OF  SINS."  A  tractate  on  what  are  called 
"  fallen  women."  By  Theodore  Tilton.  Price  5  cents ;  $3  per 
hundred. 

The  above  pamphlets  will  be  sent  to  any  part  of  the  United 
States,  postage  paid,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 

After  you  read  this  notice,  and  before  you  forget  it,  sit  down 
and  write  a  letter  to  Mr.  Tilton,  subscribing  for  the  paper  and 
ordering  some  of  the  tracts. 

All  letters  should  be  addressed  to 

THEODORE  TILTON, 
Postofflce  Box  2848,  New  York  City. 

The  American  News  Company  are  the  authorized  Agents"  for 
the  Trade. 


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AUG  3  0  1999 


